Persona III FES: Scars Wide Open
by LostCompass
Summary: Death rattles his red cage, screaming for sweet release. Alas, his warden knows nothing of this trapped soul- and how it will bring a horrific end to all that he cares for. A new protagonist in a familiar story.
1. Dead Meat

The Persona franchise belongs to Atlus, not me. Try not to forget.

* * *

_It's your dead meat from former days..._  
_I am your crisis._  
_Blue asbestos in your veins..._  
_I'm your broken fingers._  
_I've killed you twice, I will again..._  
_Revenge is eager._  
_See, first you'll crash and then you'll burn... !_

There was something about Iwatodai City. Something I just couldn't put a name to.

_Dorothy died for your pleasure!_  
_It's hard to get along in this car- crash- weather- !_

Something in the way the people were herded up and down the wide streets, dropping into and spilling out of pubs, cafes, arcades, brand stores that made up the shopping mall. The beastly bright screens hung upon the skyscrapers, blurting advertisements. Everyone had a destination-

_'Cause your dead meat formaldehyde- !_  
_Didn't phase me..._  
_I soon returned to track you down..._  
_For your confession..._

This city was so new. No history to it, no dark secrets. Even the slummiest shitboxes had more character than this shinin' tabula rasa. Built as an example of what Japanese cities should be more like... a power plant, wind turbines everywhere, natural gas for buses, all that rot. There weren't even any bagheads sweeping alleys- a wrong, wrong sight to me, after living in London for so long. What if you got lost, huh? Who would you go to? These dyed-haired miniskirted schoolskets chattering among themselves, eyes riveted to their gaudy mobile phones, not paying a quid to where they're walking? Not bloody likely.

_I'll be your poison and your pain,_  
_I'll be your struggle to be sane._  
_Exploited... lament..._  
_And the places you never went..._

But it's not as if I had a choice. It was here or the gaol. And sitting behind bars, now that was a life just bang out of order. Swell for some, maybe. Not for me.

_Dorothy died for your pleasure!_  
_It's hard to get along In this car- crash- weather- !_  
_Car crash weather!_

That was enough of that. I hopped off the train at the station, ignoring the 'hey look at that, a gaijin'-type stares that seemed to hound my arse whenever I went past a specific longitudinal line. God bless xenophobia. I put those thoughts out of my head, cranking up the noise, letting the grungy base and guitar of Bush take me to a better place. Hell, the music was so upped people gave me glances on the sidewalk, even over the deafening noise of traffic and city life. My coping mechanisms aren't exactly what you'd call healthy, per se. One of the many things I have to work on.

But I was bitch-slapped out of my reverie upon slamming face-first into something on the sidewalk. I stumbled and flopped back on my arse with a loud "shittin' fuckin' hell!"

Picking up my bags, I looked up at the twat I had barreled into, to realize... I was staring at a coffin.

I blinked, and automatically whipped out my mobile to gander the time, but of course, it was dead. My music player was dusted as well, leaving me in a deafening silence.

_Am I that late? Christ._

The world around me, once all bustling with the beat of the nightlife, was quieter than any grave. The moon, now a massive, bloated yellow eye, emerged from the dark cloud cover and casts its gaze over the flash urban cemetery. I shivered- it had only been a tad chilly when I arrived, but with this... time (if you could even call it that, I'm sure some quantum physicist would argue otherwise)... the temperature plummeted. My breath misted blood red in the night as I dusted myself off, mumbled a curt "so sorry" to the coffin I had barged into, and continued on my way.

I never... got used to _that_. The whole alternate-blood-dimension thing started happening when I was... seven or so, enough to give me panic attacks whenever I saw a coffin in the normal hours. Coffinophobia, if you would. And of course, no one would believe me- the way I described this Lovecraft-style time always came across to people as either a really charged trip or dream. I mean, sticky red stuff flooding the gutters, all these coffins with stock-still people stuck inside, shadows always dancin' about in the corner of your vision... Not a healthy thing for a boy that age to grow up with. What made it worse was that it seemed that I was the only one to experience this time warp, and you know how misery enjoys company.

My wandering mind skidded to a stop as a massive building loomed in front of me. It was impressively built, even by this cities' pretty high standards- I could spot solar panels on the roof, all that. And it matched the address, whatdy'a know. May as well wait out the space-time miscarriage in a cozy place, I thought as I hopped up the front stairs. And get a general idea of my new home.

_My new home. Let's see how long this lasts._ With a deep breath, I opened the door.

I blinked, shocked and dazed by the sudden light. Shielding my eyes with a hand, I squinted and took a look about- the lamps in the dorm were all on, flooding the lobby with warmth and light- proper yellow light, not that sticky sickly green pseudo-moonlight shit. My shoes sank into the thick cubist-style carpet as I took a few steps forward, my eyes toughening. This was a bloody ace dormitory if I'd ever seen one, a step above most hotels I had roomed in. And just for high school, at that.

"If you were counting on being fashionably late, you've failed. Spectacularly."

I froze, my head twisting hard to the left as if it were on slick ball bearings. Leaning lazily elbows-first against the counter was a pallid, sleepy young man, a cocked eyebrow warning a tick past agitated- and looking at me more than expectantly. Oh. Right. That's where I come in. Let's see...

"Uh, hullo," I replied in English, maybe a bit too quickly. Fagged and shagged as I was, had to be polite, at least. "I'm so sorry about the time, the train was held up, and the directions here were somewhat-"

The sleepy chap waved a pale hand as if to swat away my apology. "Excuses and all that jizzjazz later. You're moving into this dorm, right? 'Course you are, that's why you're here." I had barely began to nod before he pulled a slim purple notebook from the depths of his stormbeater, slapping it flat against the counter and flipping it open to the first page. It was a cheap little thing, really, something you'd fetch at a convenience store for a handful of quid. At least it was college-ruled...

But that's completely trivial. I looked closely at this funny young man; for all the lights on in the dorm, I couldn't see his shadow. Odd. And odder still... "How are you still-?"

"Awake? For fuck's sake, someone had to be." He stuck his hands into his torn jean pockets impatiently, straightening his tired back into a crickly-crackly stretch. Christ almighty, he stood a good two heads higher than me. "Why you had to take a fuckin' night train is beyond me. Jet lag, my ass..."

That... wasn't exactly what I meant. There hadn't been any lights in the windows of the dorm when I had made my way to the door. Maybe I had gotten the time wrong, or... or... those baffled thoughts faded as I read the words of the notebook, written out in a skilled English longhand, that spanned the first page:

**_"Upon signing this contract, I hereby declare myself fully accountable, at all places, times, states of bodily health and psyche, for whatever actions I may perform."_**

I frowned. High school communities were always wont to take themselves a tick too bloody seriously, but this... was odd. No stamp, insignia or signature of the dorm head, nothing to make it official proper and all that rot...

The young man- I guessed he was to be a dormmate or something along those lines, which I can't say I was looking terribly forward to- raked his stubble with dirty fingernails, looking a tick irritated. "I know, I know. Amateurish, but you gotta make do." He took a pen off of the counter, uncapped it with a flick of his thumb, and tossed it to me. "Just sign whatever, wherever. See that it's legible."

My brow furrowed deeper as I looked back down at the contract. Legally, there wasn't anything too glaring... the bit about mental health wasn't exactly encouraging, though. Then again, I had come too far to fall back- and it's not like I was _too_ batty. Not like I had anywhere else to go, either.

Gritting my teeth, I signed my name, keeping it somewhat legible.

**_Jack Scarborough_**

I had thrown in a few impressive loops in there on the _J_ and _S_, just for the hell of it. Got to have some pride.

He spun the notebook around as soon as I had touched up the capitals a tad, staring at the name, mouthing it a few times. He nodded, looking up at me, and I fought the sudden urge to step back. I hadn't noticed this before, but... the eyes staring out of that pale, bloodless face were dead. Empty, unseeing, vacant. Like the glassy gaze of a sleepwalker. I mentally recategorized him from 'prat' to 'maniac'. "Good enough," he mumbled, blowing gently on the ink and holding the notebook close to his chest. He sighed, scratching at his stubble with something like melancholy making his shoulders slouch. _"No one can escape time..."_ he whispered, almost too quietly for me to hear.

"Uh..._ huh_. I beg your pardon?" Blimey. A proper daft maniac. For a dormmate. The future ain't looking so bright, and I don't need any fortune cookie to tell me. No, wait... that's China-

He looked up, glazed eyes glinting, as if he had forgotten I was there. "Nothing, nothing. Just..." He shrugged, and tapped the plastic cover of the notebook, leaving little dents. _"Inevitability,_ you know?" He grinned suddenly, his teeth surprisingly straight and white, as if he had just gotten them. "But for now, let's just sit back and watch. Sit back and watch all this insane bullshit begin. Shall we?"

Nothing like a piping hot crock of ominous pseudo-philosophical shit to get welcomed in. He gently tucked the notebook back into his stormbeater, and I looked around anxiously as the lights began to dim. "By the by... what's your name, mate, if I may ask?"

His unsettling grin widened. "Introductions? Look at you, all British prim and proper- you'll fit in here just fine," he said with a unnerving chuckle. I began to ask just what he meant by that, but the darkness consumed him, his body melting away into the pitch, his glimmering eyes and teeth the last to go.

_Oh God. Oh God. Fucking hell. What the bloody f-_

"Who's there?"

I whipped my head around at the words, mentally translating the Japanese into English, moving a bit slower thanks to the chap's freaky-arse disappearing act. My little internal translator blew a fuse, however, when I noticed a girl reaching for a pistol holstered at her thigh, breathing hard, her eyes wild. He fingers wrapped around the grip in one smooth motion.

_Fuck no._

Too big a gap. Couldn't get at her gun. She'd tool me. Instead, I threw myself over the counter, rolling over to the other side, waiting for the bullets to start ripping up splinters. _Not again, oh God not again, please not again, please God..._

"Takeba! Wait!" Another voice rang out, this one stern with authority. I mustered enough courage to peek over the top of the counter. The girl with the pistol was slipping it back into the holster, looking back at another girl sheepishly- clearly her handler.

_I'm doing you in tomorrow..._  
_That's why I'm dressed In all- this- sorrow!_  
_I'm doing you in tomorrow._  
_I'll burn before I mellow!_

The lamps flickered back to life, and I squinted in the bright light. The intervening girl- woman, really- walked over to the counter with a toss of her red hair, looking down at me with an amused expression. My, her eyes were beautiful. A calming, dark amber. "I didn't expect you to arrive so late."

Well. What a great impression I've made.

* * *

Solid Snake CQC rolls over counters = best way to make friends. Obviously.

Been wanting to do something like this for a time. Bear with me, as Teddie would say.


	2. Silence Held Its Breath

Right then.

I glanced sidelong at the gun-toting brunette before straightening, giving an apologetic shrug. Weirder and weirder... but I should play along. "I apologize. The train ran a tad late, and I had a bit of trouble finding the dorm." I gave a weak smile. "Japanese cities are... set up oddly, to an outsider." I walked around the counter, trading wary looks with the wide-eyed gunslinger- still sweating, her brown bangs sticking to her forehead- to get to my luggage, when I realized the redheaded lass had a gun holstered at her waist as well. _Shit fuck cunt bloody fuck._ What is this, the wild fuckin' west?

The elegant girl smiled, her arms crossed over her ruffled lacy white blouse. I like. "You managed to find it, at least." Charming even when she was patronizing. I shut off my music player and stopped staring at her sexy boots, giving her my full attention. "My name is Mitsuru Kirijo. I, along with Yukari Takeba-" she gestured to the brunette standing a bit behind her, who gave a slight start at hearing her name- "Live in this dorm."

I nodded. "Uh, yeah, I see that, but... Kirijo-sama, wasn't this to be an all-boys' dormitory?"

A smirk tugged at Mitsuru's lips, either at my horrific butchering of her native language or my failure of honorifics. Probably both. "Yes, I'm afraid there was an overflow of newcoming students. For now- tonight night, at the very least- you'll stay here."

Yukari fidgeted, and edged up to Mitsuru. "Is... that okay?" she whispered to her, almost out of my hearing. Underestimate me, will you? How you shall regret that, my dear lass!

"We have nothing to fear," Mitsuru said coolly, straightening the banged-up ribbon at Yukari's throat unconsciously. "He'll be leaving us tomorrow." Yukari nodded at that, but still seemed a bit anxious. Some girls just don't like the cock, I guess.

"Might I ask about your... sidearms?" I asked, eying the pistol strapped to Yukari's thigh. Didn't know holsters came in smaller sizes for lasses...

"Shock defense weapons," Mitsuru replied, more quickly than I would've expected. "For protection, you understand. Real as they look, it's part of the art of self-defense." Tasers? Really now? Could've fooled me.

The two spoke a bit more, Yukari looking not at all happy, and I looked back at the counter where the scruffy chap from before had been... before he fucking _disintegrated_, anyways. I churned that thought over in my head- did they know about the sixty-minute slip? If that bloke did... then again, they said this was an all-girls dorm... of course, realistically, they were probably sneaking in guys here and there, especially Mitsuru, with the way she-

"Oh, I'll show you your room." Yukari's voice broke my mental rambling, and I nodded automatically with a quick "thank you for boarding me" to Mitsuru as I fetched up my luggage. She simply smiled.

I then turned my attention to the high-hemmed skirt of my guide climbing the stairs, following not-too-closely. Yeah, no doubt about it. An arse like that, legs like those- this was a lasses' dorm in name only, I could tell already. Yukari led us onto the second landing- Christ, mighty big box for a dorm- and down to the end of the hall. She gestured to the door on the right.

"Okay, this is your room. Easy to remember, huh?" She smiled, a bit strained as she pushed open the door to my temporary lodgings. I poked my head in- and damn. Some dorm. I must've stumbled into an embassy on mistake- hoped the boys' dorms were this slick, but knowing the our sex, we probably got the fag end of some old slaughterhouse.

Out of the corner of my eye, I clocked Yukari watching me closely, nervously. Turning back to her, I took a step closer. Just a step. "You needn't worry about the gun thing. Really, I- I take no offense to it, or anything of the sort. A common misunderstanding." I even threw in a little reassuring smile.

Yukari eased up- but only slightly. "Y-yeah." She had her right hand balled into a fist- a nervous tic? "Sorry about that. Just, you know, so late at night-"

"I understand." I let my smile widen. Just a little. "I answer to Jack, by the by. Jack Scarborough."

Her shoulders relaxed, and she gave a little giggle. I relaxed. "Mitsuru-senpai didn't tell me you were coming, and once you did, she didn't even tell me your name. Nice to meet ya," she said with a short bow.

I dragged my luggage into the spacious room, stacking it all into a corner. As I did so, something clinked behind me.

"Your key's on the desk. Don't lose it, okay? Unless you'd like to get to know Mitsuru-senpai better. In like, the worst way possible, that is."

I chuckled in turn. "Roger that." She rattled off a few more things- school uniform's in the closet, bathroom's on the left, be up at seven sharp, all that noise.

Yukari turned to leave and had a shapely leg out the door before she stopped, putting a hand on the threshold. "Um... Scarborough-san, can I ask you something?"

"Only if you call me Jack."

She gave me a startled stare, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Oh, right. The first-name thing. Shit. "Did anything... weird happen on the way here from the station? Like, anything at all?"

Aha, a trap, cut clear and clean. Should I mention the sickening sixty-minute slip? The eerie fellow skulkin' behind the counter? Would she admit to knowing? Did she even know?

Bugger it. I folded. "Aside from getting a tad lost and chased by a dog... nope, everything was fine." I smiled again. "Thanks for asking, though."

"Alrighty then. Goodnight." And off she went, that little skirt going swish-swish-swish. Didn't even give me time to say goodnight back.

Well, whatever. I sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing at my face tiredly. Jetting across the world, training to and fro, and then having to put up with the slip- the first two could take its toll on anyone. But the slip? Fuck that. I always felt like shat shit after those sixty dirty minutes, and having a bed under my arse was all it took to send me to sleep. Didn't undress- prefer to sleep geared up. Made life simpler.

_That's day one,_ I thought to myself as my eyes closed. Little did ignorant Jack know that day one would be the only easy one.

* * *

I stared at the mirror on the wall, the sun's glare boiling my eyes in my head, my hands gripping the lip of the sink. Funny, having a sink in your own room. Guess that's what the gaol is like.

A sigh tumbled out of my mouth. What was I doing here? Tens of thousands of kilometers away from home...

I nearly bashed my head against the faucet at the one-two knock on my door.

"Hey, Scarborough-san! You better not still be asleep in there!"

_Bollocks_. Sleep sounds nice right about now.

* * *

I tugged at the collar of my uniform, stifling a yawn. Whoever starched this thing went bollocks-out. And I never looked good in uniform.

"Something up?"

"What?" More like _"whaaaw-aaaat?"_, thanks to the yawn. I glanced over at Yukari, who had bought a spot of coffee for the ride and was looking at me curiously over the rim. Her eyes pierced the steam. "Oh. No. Not at all."

I hated the metro. All metros. In London, it was just a place to get laced, gangraped, mugged, or knifed and then stuffed in some maintenance side-closet to rot- or all of the above. A place to be given a wide bastarding berth, in layman's terms. Long story scissored, I wasn't looking forward to boarding at Iwatodai station again, and I was not pleased to find out that Yukari and Mitsuru took the metro to and from their school every fucking day. Great. Well, at least I won't be staying here long.

So understandably, with four and a half hours of sleep in me, I was on guard for just about anything. Yukari must've thought I was amazed and dazed at the station, or something, from the little amused smile on her face. If only she knew.

"Do... most students take the metro?" I asked, noting the amount of uniforms and whipped-out mobiles on the platform. And short skirts. What an upstanding school. Not that I would complain, you understand. All schools have bike racks, anyway. Fact of life.

Yukari nodded, looking up from her own mobile a tick. "Yeah. Pretty much everyone does." She grinned suddenly. "You'll see why." O-kay then.

The station not being the site of a gangwar or anarchist attack for the time being, I slid over to the main counter and bought a two-way boarding pass- Yukari already had a lifetime pass, smart of her- and I should've done the same, but seriously now, we were in a hurry, you understand. So we boarded the train and off we went.

As the train zoomed right along, I looked around the carriage, expecting to see harassment left and right like the papers all said. I found none, to my disappointment- fine, fine, relief and satisfaction, I'm not a chav- so I guessed today the rapists-in-training were off duty or something. I thought about mentioning something to Yukari about it, but "so, tell me about the Japanese sexual predation pandemic of public transport" isn't exactly drawing room conversation.

I had begun to damn myself for leaving my music player at the dorm- all those students chattering away, didn't help that it was all inane shit either- when suddenly Yukari piped up. "Hey! That's it! Don't worry, it's not as bad on the inside as the outside."

I blinked in the morning sunlight, squinting against the sea-glare. And... holy bloody fuck. It's like some architect's postmodern wet dream come to life. All white walls and blue glass, wreathed in lush trees... _shit._ Most colleges weren't- hell, the MI6 building wasn't this ace.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Yukari, about the shoe thing..."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Shoe thing?"

* * *

This was something out of... I don't know. It was just unreal. From the train's terminal, we got off with the rest of the students and walked our way along the wide pattern-tiled through-way. Blimey, even the grass to the sides of the pathway was perfectly cut.

"Is this everyone?" I asked, gesturing around us at the massive mob. And nearly got my hand taken off by some biking lass. Great.

In the middle of helloing a good many boys and girls- quite popular, apparently- Yukari shook her head, amusement lighting up her eyes. "Not even close. A lot of the club members and upperclassmen show up at five, or even earlier, if they've got stuff to do."

... Earlier than this? I'm not liking this school already. Oh, well. At least the mornings are somewhat warm. Or maybe that was this bloody uniform...

I was suddenly aware of a massive gleaming white clock tower... towering... over me. Jesus H. Christ. Speaking of which, I now noticed the pearly gates flanking me, the other students streaming by like this was all normal. Jesus Christ in Heaven. I needed to buy this place's architect one hell of an ale and give him a hell of a handshake, even if he hadn't washed his hands after his wet dream.

Yukari broke out into a grin at my 'holy fuck' expression. "Aaaand here we are! Welcome to Gekkoukan!"

Welcome indeed. The first bell rang.

* * *

"See? That's it."

I nodded, scratching my chin. "Right. I'm right sure I've got it down proper."

Yukari rolled her eyes, leaning back against one of the many rows of shoe lockers. "That was the shoe thing? Come _on._"

"No one told me, alright? It was always just, 'when in Rome', through and through." I frowned down at the uncomfortable black dress shoes I had worn to the school. "I mean, we don't do it like this in London. Or anywhere else, I'm sure." I sighed. Just had to leave my trusty ol' boots at the dorm.

"Hey, don't worry! If anyone asks, it's your first day." Yukari tapped a finger against her lips, smirking mischievously. "So basically, after today, you've got to have everything done right or you'll be the freaky new kid and I'll never speak to you in public."

"Oh, ha ha. Some guide you are." So you wear normal shoes to school, switch them out for school shoes, leave normal shoes in locker. Fuck. Why didn't I pick up on that?

She snapped her fingers. "Speaking of guiding!" She pointed over a ways where a mob of students were surrounding... something. Something blue. "Your classes are posted on that bulletin board, so check 'em out." Oh, blue thing equals bulletin board. "And since you're new, you're gonna want to talk to your homeroom teacher."

"Right. You might be a cruel guide, but I appreciate the tour."

"Anytime!" She paused, a glint in her eye. "Anytime today, anyway. See ya!"

Before I could get out a "for fuck's sake, lass", she had disappeared off into the crowded halls.

Crowded halls. Just like the metro. Shit. Why do I leave my flick knife in my right boot?

Whatever. I wasted some time waiting for the crowd to thin staring at the vending machines, wondering how the hell you say saturated in Japanese, till I finally shouldered my way to that blue board of destiny and hunted for my name.

There's a miniature sticky note slapped onto the board at the very bottom corner. Jack Scarborough, class... F. That sounds bloody well promising.

Taking Yukari's advice (she hadn't let me down yet... even though it had only been less than ten hours), I began wandering through the school, looking for the faculty office. 'Wander' is the only good word for it- I must've gone to every door in the building, staring at the little sign above the frame until I could piece the word together. Yeah, yeah, I know. How can he speak Japanese so well if he can't read it worth shit? Speech and writing are different, alright? Those little strokes on Japanese characters, they're a fuckload more complicated than you'd think.

Sliding the door open, I poked my head into the office, only to almost immediate be called out.

"Oh, hello! Are you the new student?"

I blinked, nodded, and slowly walked in, my eyes running over the papers tacked to the walls, the rows of books and records. A short-haired woman came up to me with a thin file.

"Jack Scarborough, male, age sixteen, place of birth London, eleventh grade... correct?"Of course, she pronounced it Scarborough Jack, in the Japanese manner. Scarborough Jack... sounded like a noir detective's name. Or a serial murderer. Or both.

I nodded again with a "yes, madam". Might as well make a good impression, right?

"You've certainly come a long way from home. Has everything been satisfactory during your visit?" A mute nod from me. "Now, let's see... in 2005, your new guardian took custody over you. Has this been a positive change?"

My collar was still too stiff. All this personal-life talk was making me a little uncomfortable. "Yes, madam, it has. He's like- more than a father, to me. The best man I know." And that's not shit, either. Archibald Scarborough is one of the finest gentlemen to grace the face of London, and I'll duel anyone who says otherwise. To the Goddamn death.

The woman smiled- a real smile, this time. Not just a etiquette-calls smile. "I'm so happy to hear that. I'm Ms. Toriumi, and I teach Composition. Welcome to Gekkoukan High School."

"Thank you for having me," I said, maybe too quietly. Yeah, I sort of go into shy-mode once people get all nice to me.

Ms. Toriumi then opened the door, advising me to follow, as something or other was going on in the school auditorium (more like atrium, knowing this school)- Welcoming Ceremony, or something.

* * *

I had to fight the urge to look around me. Christ almighty, there were a metric fuckton of students going here. I mean, I know Japan had an overpopulation problem, but God damn.

The principal was giving the student body some invigorating, awe-inspiring speech, from the way everyone's eyes were glazed over. Or maybe that was boredom.

A tap on the back of my head. I twisted in my seat, finding myself face to face with an unusually awake-looking student.

"Hey." He proceeded to ask me a question which could've concerned quantum physics for all I knew, he was speaking too quietly and the principal's speech drowned him out. All I got on the end of that was 'Yukari'. I gave a little nod, unsure.

The student looked thoughtful. He spoke again- this time, I caught the Japanese word for 'boyfriend'- and shook my head at that. He nodded, a little smirk creeping across his face as he sat back, hands behind his head. Whatever, mate.

So that was that. School went along, the classes all in tutorial mode for the hopelessly confused like me. The final bell rang, and I nearly sprang out of my seat; those four hours of sleep had burned out, and I wasn't going to last much longer. That translated to caffeine charge time. That, or having a heart attack in the hall. The science teacher nearby would be pleased, at least.

The way to the door was suddenly blocked by a chest. I involuntary skipped back a half-step, throwing my arms up, ready for anything. However, I didn't expect a hand to fly around and clap mine in a badarse highfive-handshake combo.

"'Sup, dude?" I looked up. Beneath that swish hat, he had a face-splitting grin on. "How's it goin'?"

That got him a surprised "um... good." followed by slightly less surprised "and... you are... ?"

"Who, me? I'm Junpei Iori!" he jabbed a thumb into his chest, like I should've known him by sight. "Transferred over here in the eighth grade. So trust me, bro-" he gave me a brotastic cuff on the shoulder- "I know how shitty it can be, being the new guy. So I just wanted to say, "'sup dude," which I already have. Look at that, model of Japanese politeness for ya!"

I couldn't help myself. After trudging through the day in isolated silence, someone actually acknowledging me apart from the "hey look a gaijin" glances was a nice change of pace- not to mention with a bravado I hadn't seen in Japan. I grinned a bit. "Thanks and thanks, then, china."

Junpei cocked his head, stroking his goatee. Blimey. Why can't I grow one? "China? You must'a got on the wrong plane, bro. Don't worry, though, you're pretty close. If you like swimming."

"China, china. China plate. Rhymes with mate."

His grin got even wider. "Ah, I gotcha! Should probably get a British translation manual or somethin' with ya around, huh?"

"Be bloody useful, I'd say."

Our silly little back-and-forth was cut short as Yukari stepped into the room and walked over to my desk. Junpei perked up upon seeing her. "Hey! It's Yuka-tan!" Yucatan? Yuka... _oh,_ I get it. "In the same class again? Hell yeah! This'll be just like last year!"

Yukari rolled her eyes, not even looking Junpei's way. "Don't worry about him. He gives up if you ignore him long enough."

Junpei clutched at his chest in mock grief. "Ouch. But you can only ignore me for so long- 'specially since we're in the same homeroom!"

An exasperated glare from Yukari bounced right off Junepi's hat. This was like something straight off the telly. "Anyway, Scarborough-san-" I ripped my eyes away from Junpei's hat, focusing on Yukari's suddenly quiet voice- "you didn't tell anyone about... _you know_, last night?"

I blinked, confusion settling into my belly. About... the slip? Or did she mean her zap-gun? Shit. Play it safe. "No, not a soul."

From the way Junpei's hair stood on end, I'm surprised his hat didn't smash through the ceiling. "Last_ niiiiiight?"_ he asked, his voice bleeding insinuation, a devilish smirk spreading across his face. He looked at me like I found the cure for the Black Death or something.

Yukari's eyes snapped wide, realizing her blunder. "Hey, it's not like that! You're such a pervert, Junpei- and he's only been here a day! Do you really think-!"

Junpei threw his hands up. "Okay, okay. I get it. No 'jousting' between you two. Loud and clear."

She threw in a "don't you dare start any rumors" threat as she headed out the classroom (that little skirt going swish-swish-swish) for archery practice. Archery practice? This school just got a fuckload cooler. Just like the yeomanry.

A dislocating clap on the shoulder brought me back to reality. "Been talk 'bout you all 'round school, and it's only your first day. But c'mon, c'mon- how'd it really go down, huh? 'Helping' you 'unpack', that sorta stuff?"

"It's not... exactly like that."

Junpei shrugged, curbing his interest. "Yeah, well, it's school, bro. No one cares that much about rumors. So chill." But he chuckled, and as some sort of honorary gesture, slapped his hat onto my head. "Yuka-tan's no easy catch, bro. You da _man!_"

... I da_ man,_ apparently.

* * *

Junpei (after reclaiming his hat- I wasn't da _man_ enough to wear it for more than ten minutes) and I walked to the terminal together- I would've walked home, but being knackered to hell and not wanting to be lost, I decided to listen to good judgement for once in my life. Along the way, Junpei give me the basic rundown of how the school worked- you had your skets, your skanks, your chavs, your sadarses, and the slim, slim percentage of students who weren't complete arseholes. Oh, and the teachers were all either criminally insane and unfit to be anywhere but solitary confinement or were sadomasochistic ephebophiles. Or both.

In other words, according to Junpei, this place was already ten times nicer than London.

When we made it back to the mainland, Junpei gave me a quick tour of the surrounding area- mall's over there, restaurants there, nice cafe there, club's over there, payphones are green instead of red (sure explained why I couldn't find them before), blokes on the little crossing lights had hats. I thanked him, for everything- mainly, for being the one person who showed actual kindness to me- and off we went, me to the dorm, him to wherever badarse goatteed hatters go.

I stood in front of the dorm for a tick, just staring at it. Was a pretty building, after all. Stark, but had that modern cleanliness. The way the dusk's light reflected off the windows, very fetching.

_Four years ago, I'd have never thought I'd end up here. A grave, but not here._

With a sigh, I pushed open the door, wiping my feet before I entered. Mitsuru glanced up from her reading to grace me with a "welcome back" before returning to her thick book.

"And a good evening to you, Kirijo-san," I said, with a bow. Mitsuru glanced up, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Improving, I see."

"Little by little, yeah."

She inquired after little- that everything went alright, classes satisfactory for my intellect, all that noise. After that she laid a "you look like shat shit, go sleep" in a nice, Japanese, polite way. Good advice, which I followed.

I sat in my room for a while, my school shoes kicked off. I had dug around in my old steel-toed boots until I found my one prized possession- a wooden handled flick knife, older than I was and sharper than I could ever hope to be. I just cradled it in my hands, staring at the ceiling.

_I almost like this place._

That naive thought came _before _the shit hit the fan._  
_


	3. Karma Police

_Karma police, arrest this man..._  
_He talks in maths..._  
_He buzzes like a fridge..._  
_He's like a detuned radio..._

Hustle and bustle of students and suits at the station, the bright morning light streaming in through the wide skylights, the air crisp even in the choke of the crowd. I drum my middle-finger-knuckles against the counter, staring at nothing, sleepy as usual. Buy a year-long pass now? Seemed like a useful metro. I mean, even if the boys' dorm wasn't as far away, it'd be nice to be able to get around in this terra incognita.

And I didn't enjoy blowing twenty pounds on the back-and-forth to school. Currency exchanges rates are bitchtits these days, let me tell you, and the running prices for just about anything in Japan are an insult to the free market. The cigarette machines? Don't get me started. Those five thousand pounds Arch had doled me weren't going to last long, even if I was stingier than usual.

Fuck it. When the white-and-blue uniformed woman behind the counter wasn't busy, I scooted up and asked for a yearlong pass in my politest broken Japanese. Bit of paperwork involved, but it felt good to hop onto the train without watching my funds drain away. Reminded me of my old trespassing self.

_Karma police, arrest this girl,_  
_Her Hitler hairdo is making me feel ill..._  
_And we have crashed her party..._

Glad I brought my music player along this time around. Now I could drown out the gossipish faffing and felching, what a relief. Even when you only half-understand the language, hearing some soggy schoolsket wail about how her plaything of the week cheated on her is always a grinder. Especially when you're on a train. Trains make all things worse. So much worse.

_This is what you get,_  
_This is what you get,_  
_This is what you get when you mess with us..._

Really, I should have my headphones off, be listening to what they say. Trying to learn the little colloquialisms, nooks and crannies of the language. But as I walked through those massive shining gates and the first thing I heard is something about a tossparty in the boys washroom, well- ! On go the headphones.

But I have my boots. And Jack in boots is a happy Jack. Happy as he gets, anyway.

Boots go in, shoes come out. The Japanese and their shoe things. Lockers aren't so complex, now are they? Good thing I didn't come to school with Yukari or she'd be larruping my arse about being a slow learner. Nice lass, Yukari. Fit, too. Almost disappointed that I'm moving out of her dorm soon.

_Karma Police,_  
_I've given all I can..._  
_It's not enough,_  
_I've given all I can..._  
_But we're still on the payroll..._

Zoned out as can be, school passes quickly. Worries and fears and ghosts tax my mind where composition should be. Headphones are off but the music remains, a soft whisper rolling over the plains of my brain. You know, in class, these students are actually... studious. I'm surprised. A jarring change from London. Everything I learned there was from Old Bill or from the lean and leathered. Kind of depressing, really.

But no, not here. Pencils and pens scritch-scratch away, only a few mobiles sitting in laps. They're watching the board for their lesson, I'm watching them. So odd. Was I like that once?

Ms. Toriumi teaches the class with a learned hand, book in the other, Japanese characters spanning the chalkboard. Recognize some, not others. She moves and speaks like a woman half her age, full of energy, love of life. I wonder what that's like...

"Hey! Jack! Jack!"

I blink, and I'm plunged back into the world of the living. Junpei is mouthing something to me. "Who does she like?" Who does... who like? Wot?

Rewind over the brain-played music, the mental rambling that went nowhere, the daydreams. Dig through all that short-term memory, and... oh, yeah. There's the lesson I should be paying attention to. "Utsubo Kubota," I mouth back, unsure. Wait, did I even mouth that back in Japanese? Fuck.

Ms. Toriumi beams and doesn't chew out Junpei's arse, so that means I remembered right. Good, good. I cast myself adrift again, walking away on the sunlight shining through the window. I'll just study the written lecture. Easier that way. The characters stay still. Language always moves. Lives.

_This is what you get..._  
_This is what you get..._  
_This is what you get when you mess with us..._

With some more hours of sleep in me, I don't head right back to the dorm. I take a cut to the strip mall Junpei was so kind of inform me of, ambling about aimlessly, peeking into the shops here and there, dodging out before the owner can ask if I want anything. But I grow tired, and finding a cozy little backalley, I drop my bag and sit against the brick wall. I rub my eyes- shadows dance across me as shoppers walk past the mouth of the alley.

_For a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself..._  
_Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself..._

This is getting harder and harder. The sixty minute slip comes at midnight here too. That doesn't make sense. If it slips at twelve in London, logically, it should take place... in the late morning, right? But nope- when I got that sickening cold feeling in my belly and rolled out of bed to look at my alarm clock- it had no power.

Christ. I was usually able to sleep through it- not very well, but I kept my eyes closed, at least- but being in an unfamiliar place, and with the slip making less sense than usual (if that were fucking possible)- I wasn't handling this too well. Head hurt. Wanted to go home, but real home was thousands of kilometers away.

And that boy behind the counter... he worried me the most of all. I had felt slightly sick ever since I had watched him disappear. Who was he? What was he?

I sighed, pulled off my right boot, and shook it until my flick knife tumbled out into my outstretched hand. Slipped the boot back on and flicked the knife open and closed, open and closed. Closed my eyes, let the simple rhythm calm me. Steel me.

Okay. Okay. I can't be like this, pissing around with my face looking like slapped arse. I can't pussy out now, not with Arch expecting the world of me, with my whole life ahead of me. Got to do well- more than well- in school, got to stay on good terms with dormmates.

I lean back, letting my head knock against the smooth brick, breathing deep. The dusk air is pleasantly cool, almost chilly. I let my knife flip closed and hold it in a tight fist.

I could've sworn I was stronger than this.

_For a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself..._  
_Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself..._

* * *

Enough moody angst for one day. Thought I outgrew this wankery.

I dragged my arse back to the dorm, later than usual. I slip inside expecting Mitsuru again, but instead I find myself facing Yukari and a clean-cut gentleman.

"Well, speak of the devil!" the gentleman says with a chortle, pushing his glasses up his nose. Don't like where this is going.

"Putting in a good word for me, I trust," I murmur, looking at Yukari pointedly as I pull off my earphones. She gives a strained smile.

Our genteel guest waves a hand. My eyes follow his cufflinks. Those little bits were worth more than all I had. "Oh, don't you worry. Nothing is wrong." He extends a hand. "Shuji Ikutsuki. Chairman of the Board for Gekkoukan High School."

Without missing a beat, I shake it solidly. For a skinny bastard, this Ikutsuki bloke's got a grip like steel. "Jack Scarborough. Expatriate criminal seeking refuge."

Ikutsuki chortled again, his glasses going crooked from his shoulders shaking. He straightens them again. "I've heard much of that English humor of yours," he said warmly, gesturing at Yukari and I to take a seat, "And now I experience it in person. You're as exciting to me as Japan is to you, young man."

"... Okay." I glanced sidelong at Yukari as I slide next to her on the couch. She winced at Ikutsuki, but he continued on.

"Now," he continued smoothly, "The reason I've joined you here tonight is to inform you that- unfortunately- assigning your dorm room to you is taking longer than planned. Therefore, we of the Board would like to know if you are comfortable with your current accomodations."

I paused. The roundabout way of saying things in Japan is a far cry from the "stay in this fucking dorm" I'd get back in London. I can see the expectance churning behind those glasses of his. "Oh- uh, yeah. My room and everything is fine."

"And Kirijo-san... ?" He leans forward intently, fingers steepled.

"... Has helped me with everything. Really. All is well." I glanced over to Yukari again, shooting her a 'I can leave if you want' look, but she shook her head.

"Splendid, splendid!" Ikutsuki clapped his hands together and rose from his seat, smoothing a wrinkle from his ace suit. "I'm so glad things are working out for you here, Scarborough-kun." He looked to his watch theatrically. "Now, I'd love to ask you more about how you've adapted, but I'm afraid there's a meeting I must attend. Might I suggest going to bed early?"

Holy fuck why is everyone telling me when to sleep. "I appreciate the advice, Mr. Ikutsuki." I bowed.

We traded our goodnights and off he went. I leaned back into the couch, rubbing my eyes. "Are... they all like that?"

Yukari rose, stretched (mm-hmm), and shook her head. "No, just him," she said with a small sigh. Yeah, that's exasperation if I've ever seen it. "You'll get used to his... quirkiness."

"Scarborough-_kun?_ Quirkiness?"

"Fine. Creepiness."

"That's more like it."

* * *

I don't like the dorm room's bed. Too soft. Feels like its trying to swallow me. But I stare at the ceiling long enough to doze off, being eaten alive or not.

Yeah, I really don't like this bed. Gives me odd dreams of the oddest sorts, flying around an obscure world of mazes and towers, all checkered and striped. And finally landing at an odd hotel where the concierge has a face blank as a mask and the lift-

And the lift is a room in itself. The walls are that of a lift, wire- but it's been lovingly crafted into all sorts of designs, and as the floors rush by, light streams through the wire like strained glass, telling me stories I've never dreamed of. The rest of the room is plush, sort of... Renaissance-like, the furniture all fancily carved, sculptures of people and monsters I've never seen, the seats cushioned, the carpet thick, tapestries and paintings hanging on the wirewalls here and there.

"My dear young man, we meet at long last."

I blink. I'm sitting at a round table, and across from me is an old man, adjusting his monocle, making his right eye look horrifically huge. There are people said to have beaklike noses, but Christ almighty, this bloke made Cyrano de Bergerac look normal. At his side stands a regal, stately woman, dressed in a blue to match the decorum.

"I do believe an introduction is in order. My name," the man pressed a velvet-gloved hand against his heart- "is Bonaventure Bagnoregio Tarocchi. And this lovely madam is my assistant, Elizabeth."

The woman curtsied curtly. "Charmed."

I continued to stare- at this Tarocchi bloke's incredibly dapper black suit, at the aura of ghostly blue surrounding everything- until my eyes were drawn to a massive clockface imbedded into the lift's wirewall, its hands spinning rapidly.

"I'm... not dreaming," I mumble to myself.

Tarocchi chuckles- a boom of thunder deep in his chest. "If only you were, my dear young man, _my_- what an imagination you would have. _This-_" light floods the room as the lift passes yet another floor- "is the Velvet Room. You could compare it to Charon's ferry- not quite _here_, nor_ there_. Simply-" he holds out his hands. I notice with a chill that all of his long fingers are the exact same length. "-an in-between."

"If that's the case," I ask, trying to go along with all this insanity, "why am I here?"

I then notice the slim purple notebook on the table between us- how long had it been there?- and Tarocchi opens it with a motion of the hand. "Quite simple, my dear young man. The prerequisite for entering this place is to sign the Contract. Which you _have_, as you can very well see."

"Right." I paused. "I... don't understand. Are you telling me-" that young man from before, he seemed so impatient for my signature... was this why? "-you know that bloke? The one who made me sign this?"

Tarocchi frowned. Jesus. When he smiled he looked freakish, when he frowned he looked like a Goddamn nightmare. "He did not _make_ you sign anything, or _do_ anything, for that matter, against your own will. This is a decision you have made _yourself._"

Fuck. I got fretted like a flute. Bastard. "Whatever. You know him?"

"Know _of _him, why yes, indeed I do."

"Okay. Who the hell is he?"

A cryptic smile from Tarocchi. The last thing I need right now. "Client confidentiality, my dear young man." God fucking dammit. "If you so deeply desire- simply _ask_ him."

I leaned back in the chair, staring at the clock. "Alright, whatever. It's not like there's anything damning on that piece of paper anyway."

"That is completely dependent on your perspective, and your definition of the adverb 'damning', Mr. Scarborough," chirped Elizabeth.

"Can I leave?"

Tarocchi twirled his snowy mustache around a long finger. "Yes, yes. Perhaps next time, I will be able to help you further. Until then-" he stood, tapping his swish cane along the floor. I hastily stood to face him. Holy fuck this bloke was tall for an old gaffer. "-please, take this. You will join us again."

He dropped a small, blue key into the palm of my hand. His fingers lingered against my palm creepily, and I pulled back. "Right, then. Thanks for the... help, Mr. Tarrochi," I replied, stuffing the key into my pocket.

He nodded, with a sinister yet somehow assuring smile. "Until we meet again."

Then I flew away, back over the sleepy checkerboard world.


	4. Glycerine

And when I say 'flew away', what I mean is 'flopped out of bed trying to swat at my alarm clock'.

I laid there on the floor a moment, noting how delightfully cool the wood paneling was, but the incessant blaring of the clock convinced me to haul my arse up and hammerfist it into submission. Ah. Sweet silence.

Rubbing my arm from the fall, I shuffled over to the venetian blinds and peeked through, squinting until my eyes adjusted to the light. Look at that! Six in the bloody morning and the city's already well alive, cars and trains and pedestrians and bikers going to and fro, the rumble of a airliner zooming overhead. Christ. I let my room fall back into darkness and sat heavily on the edge of my bed, flexing my fingers and rubbing my knuckles. That always helped me wake up, for some reason. Getting the blood flowing through the end-digits. Not sure why. Should've paid more attention in class.

Things keep getting weirder and weirder the more sense I try to make of them. Mystery signature chap is working for this Tarocchi bloke. Both of them know about the sixty-minute slip. The slip takes place at midnight both here and in London, defying the laws of fuckin' physics.

I felt a bulge in my jean pocket, and looking down... Christ. I reached into the pocket and fished out an old-fashioned skeleton key, the same shade of cool blue as that room. The Velvet Room, the Italian bloke called it.

Turning the key over in my hands, I idly wondered if Archibald knew about this. I had never told him- never saw a reason to- but I think he suspected. During the hour from midnight to one, I always did look a little... pale, shocked, sometimes terrified. Why sometimes my boots would be wet without my leaving the house, why I would know the answer to something I had no clue to a minute ago. I would slip up now and again- I'm only human. He had to have caught on. Had to.

With a sigh, I set the Velvet Key down on my desk, fetched my school uniform, and headed out into the corridor for a wash. I was drenched in cold sweat.

* * *

I boarded an earlier train today. Not early enough to catch Yukari, much less Mitsuru- I honestly wondered how that lass functioned at all- but early enough to amble about the school a bit, beat out the late-rush crowd.

I had to admit, it was a nice place. All clean white lines and straight white tiled walkways. Passing through the gates, I scouted around the grass and cherry blossom trees for a tick before I found a nice out-of-the-way spot. Dropping my bag, I sat down against the trunk of blooming sakura, letting the noise of the incoming students fade away. I sighed.

This is kind of nice. The grass and flowers made me kind of snuffly, but it was so worth it.

I pieced through my bag and pulled out a stack of papers from the schoolday before- you know what they are. The papers talking about clubs and what to bring to school and the expectations for each class and the dates for important events, all that noise. I shuffled through them crisply, my eyes flowing over the written Japanese with ease.

Okay. No doubt, I'd have to join a club- or numerous clubs- to keep my grades looking nice and tidy. As it was, I'd probably struggle with Composition, Literature and Japanese History- especially history, the names always got me. The maths I could deal with- numbers are numbers wherever you are, and that was the one subject I'm actually good at. Probably came from trying to count stars, or people on the street. I was an odd lad.

Let's see... Yukari was in the archery club, wasn't she? I wouldn't mind something like that. What better way to impress Arch than to return to London a master in the British longbow? Fencing's in there too... Christ, so many clubs. Maybe there was an English club- observing how the Japanese pick up English might give me a few leads on how to better learn Japanese.

"Studying before class? On your second day? Bro, you're in danger of losing the title of da _man_."

I gave a start, bashing the back of head against the tree trunk. "Fucksocks!" I hissed. I glanced up, squinting in the bright morning sun to see Junpei towering over me. He can sneak the sneak when he needs to. That, or I'm losing my edge.

"Bell rang, bro. Time to roll." He extended a hand.

"Many thanks, china," I replied, taking hold and shaking out my arm once yanked upright. Junpei's got a hell of a grip. Probably from wanking, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I flicked a tiny grasshopper off the front of my coat.

"Look, I know you're new and everything, but trust me, you're overworking yourself already." Junpei and I walked back onto the main campus, cutting out paths from the mob. "You've gotta live, bro. You can't waste mornings like these-" He pointed upwards at the sky dramatically, causing a number of students to stop and stare- "on studying. You get me?"

I smiled a bit. "I get you, china." I patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks." We parted ways. I watched his hat float on the crowd and disappear into the maze of corridors.

* * *

School that day was considerably better, once I pushed the insanity of the nights before out of my head. _Amazing,_ really. Who would've thought that not being terrified for your sanity makes learning so much easier?

Afterward, I followed Junpei home like a lost mutt. He toured me around the spread of Port Island Station, pointing out the iffy corners to avoid unless you wanted some aggro'd yobs all up on your cock. But I don't give this place enough credit. It's nice to see people just ambling about, enjoying the day for what it was worth. I mean, it'd be nice if everyone wasn't constantly smoking, but hey, it's Japan.

"You seem hellbent and telling me where _not_ to go. Most tour guides do it the other way around."

Tugging at the bill of his hat, Junpei grimaced as a band of bovvers watched us walk by. "If someone had told me what to watch out for when I first moved here..." he trailed off with a shrug. "Dunno. I hated my first year here, bro."

I shook my head. "No, I appreciate it, Junpei. I really do, even if my use of your language says otherwise."

Junpei and I sat down on the station's stairs for a bit, our headphones switched. Christ, Junpei's ears liked some strange shit. Charcoal Filter, Oblivion Dust, Porno Graffitti, Nitro Microphone Underground, the list goes on. Not that I couldn't understand the lyrics, but when I did, I was just confused- or nauseated- even more. But I have to say, this Ondekoza stuff isn't _all_ too terrible- all drums, all spirit. Arch would probably like it.

From the way Junpei's eyebrows are climbing, he doesn't think much of my taste in music either. "Disease... of the Dancing Cats? What the hell?"

I chuckled. "Fits me more than I'd like." We swap eargear again. "Guess I still have some transitioning to do. You have any Buddhist temples around here? I could go for some meditation and all that. Gongs, incense, statues, candles..."

It was Junpei's turn to chuckle. "Passed one on the way here."

Great. That's one thing scratched off the 'stuff to try in Japan' list Arch snuck into my luggage. Only about a million more to go. Hopefully Junpei knew where I could learn some Ninjutsu.

* * *

It's twelve o'clock. I'm poring over textbooks from school, papers spread all over my desk. Bush is blasting in my ears, the lights are all on, the TV is on spitting the news and advertisements at me like wildfire. It's a lot of noise, and if this dorm's room weren't practically soundproof, I'd have woken everyone. But this is how a study- with noise. My brain strains out the unimportant shit, letting me remember only the good bits the next day. Not the best way to learn, but it's helped me so far. Taught me calculus.

_Must be your skin that I'm sinkin' in... _  
_Must be for real cause now I can feel... _  
_and I didn't mind _  
_it's not my kind _  
_not my time to wonder why _  
_everything's gone white, _  
_and everything's grey _  
_now your here now you're away _  
_I don't want this, _  
_remember that, _  
_I'll never forget where you're at _  
_don't let the days go by... _  
_Glycerine._

_Glycerine._

And everything's just swell until I'm struck deaf and go colorblind. That's what it felt like, anyway, once the sixty-minute slip rolled around. I sighed in the dark, pulling off my headphones and setting down my pen. Well. Shit. Break time, I guess. With all the lights off and in the slip, it's unnaturally cold- and I'm just in jeans. Shiver, shiver.

Or maybe it isn't break time, as the room starts shaking, flinging me out of my chair and sending my papers fluttering through the air. I hop up to my feet, my flick knife in hand as Yukari crashes into my room, her pistol-taser drawn and holding... a sword?

"Scarborough-san! We have to get out of here! NOW!"

I wanted to ask, I really did, but the panic in her voice made me shut up. I followed mutely down the stairs, looking around. Jesus, this place was rattling. I was surprised the windows weren't cracking by the time we reached the back door. But something else was on my mind. "Yukari, you can-?"

Something massive slammed against the other side of the door, putting an impressive dent in it. A few more blows put a cobweb of cracks through it too.

"Holy fuck," I breathed.

Yukari didn't say a thing, just grabbed me by the wrist and back up the stairs we went. Her mobile chirped and she set it to speakerphone. "Takeba, come in!" Mitsuru's voice on the other line was unmistakable.

"I read you!" Yukari replied breathlessly. We ground to a stop on the third floor, looking around anxiously as the dorm steadily shook.

"The enemy has called in reinforcements! This isn't only the one that Akihiko engaged from before!"

Yukari looked even more panicked. Great. "What?"

"Retreat to-" Static.

I had no idea what in the fuck was going on. "What enemy? Akihiko? Who the hell-"

"Take this!" she said suddenly. In a smooth motion she had drawn the sword and shoved it into my hands.

_"Whoa hey fuck no!"_ I yelped as she nearly chopped my fingers off. Getting a grip on the not-dangerous part of the sword- a wakizashi, Arch probably would've pointed out- I continued to tail after Yukari as she sprinted up the stairs to the roof, slamming the heavy metal door behind us and throwing the bolts.

With a loud sigh of relief, Yukari slumps back against the door. "Okay, that should give us a little-"

Another wave rocks the dorm, nearly throwing us tits over arse. We look behind us, and-

_Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ._

Hands. Pitch black hands, all clawing at the edge of the room. Tens of them. With a mighty pull, they heave the whole of its bulk onto the roof...

_Jesus Christ._

More hands. There is no body. It's just a... huge, jellyish blob of arms, all carrying blades like moonlight. Except one. One hand carries a mask, half of it smiling, the other half frowning- I can't tell which half is which, it doesn't stay still. Until it looks at us.

I drop the sword. _Oh my God. Oh my God._

Yukari doesn't piss about. Her pistol already out, she bites her lip and holds it to her head-

"Yukari, what-!"

I don't have time to finish that sentence as something flits between us. One of the beast's knives quivers in the wall like a tuning fork. Yukari cries out, clutching her bloodied arm, gun clattering to the floor. Yukari tries to reach for it, but another knife whistles out of the night- she tries to dodge it, but she's struck by the hilt, sending her sprawling to the ground.

The pitch-beast laughs. A low, rolling note that you feel in your feet. In your bones.

I gulp.

"Now's your chance."

My head swivels to the right. Crouched over Yukari, looking at her scornfully, is the chap from the first night, purple stormbeater and all. "What-"

"Be the hero. Kill the beast. Save the damsel in distress. Let the world know you aren't just another fucking face in the crowd."

I stare down at the small pistol between my feet, the shine dulled with blood. I look back up at the inky many-armed horror, expecting it to be upon me- only to find it looking at me, pointing one of his swords right at my heart. Is that... a challenge?

Mystery signature chap points a Revolver Ocelot handgun at me, then presses his fingers against the side of his head. "Not that fucking hard. It's not a matter of skill. It's a matter of balls." There's a note of worry in his voice. His eyes aren't glassy- they're wild, nearly rolling in his head like a mad hound.

_I can't do this. I can't do this. Yukari couldn't. No one can. This is- this goes beyond insane._

"You bitch. You little bitch! You-" The chap shakes with a sudden fury, bursting from him like rapids- "You have it all! Everything! And you're- throwing it away! You... you _COWARD!"_

The inkblot beast, impatient, gives a deranged, piercing shriek and rushes forward, flowing over the rooftop like water over glass, its swords all aimed right at me.

The blood is sticky, the grip too small for my hand. But I push the muzzle underneath my chin-

_**"LET'S GO, THEN!"**_

-And pull the trigger.

And then I began to drown.

* * *

They say don't swim in the Thames. It's cold, it's fast, it's dirty as the Essex lass next door.

I didn't care. I was four years old.

It's beautiful, the way the light cuts through the water, the way the sun shines through. Even with all the clouds in the world, you can always tell where the sun is.

But so cold. And the current tossed me back and forth, tumbling, nothing but bubbles and darkness and the occasional ray of sun to guide me. I tossed out my short arms, hoping to cling to anything- and nothing came.

So I gave up. I let the water take me. Four short, meaningless years flashed before my eyes before I closed them.

It was Riley who pulled me out into the freezing rain, punched my chest until I puked water after gallon of water, coughing like I'd die. It was Guy who wrapped me in his jacket as I shook with the cold, with fear. It was Kilroy who shook me by the collar, screaming at me to never do that again, the rain running down his face like tears.

I cried too, the tears and the Thames becoming one. That was the first time I realized that I had brothers.

* * *

_"Behold, this... folly._

_Behold yourself, Arcana Magician. Where man walks in the skin of monsters, you walk in the skin of man. You are carrion."_

These words came from my lips as if I had recited them every day of my life. The pistol clatters to the floor. I can only hold my head- it's been cracked wide open, and my every memory is pouring out into the sky. And it hurts.

Every single time I've felt pain, pleasure, fear, respect, shame... every emotion. I'm reliving it. Again and again.

_"I am Grendel. I am your Unmaker. Show your face, wretch, so I may see your eyes as you die."_

The sketch of ink in front of me stops, and howls- in rage. Grendel smiles. I smile.

_"I see you. And you are afraid."_

Grendel opens his cavernous mouth- his jaw stretching impossibly, jagged razor teeth glinting in the moonlight. A monstrous white claw bursts from his throat, clawing into his mouth. I begin to choke and feel as if I'll vomit, but the thing continues to emerge until Grendel explodes, his skin and organs wrapping themselves around the skeletal creature they had birthed.

I'm clutching my head. Pain, pain, pain. Every time I've experienced pain. Of all sorts. Shapes. Sizes.

Where Grendel stood behind me is now something so much more terrible. A maze of bleached bones, molded into the shape of... not a man, not a beast. A horrific thing from before men or beasts were even thought of. A necklace of shrieking skulls hanging against its bony chest, a cloak of white coffins circling its spiked spine like hellish wings. In its left long-taloned claw, it carried a bone-bound scroll. The right arm in an abomination, a knot of razor-sharp spines twisting into a sick mockery of a hand.

I shield my eyes from the aura of decay that surrounds it, consuming everything. _Dear God, Father in Heaven, have mercy on my sinning soul._

**_"How long has it been since we have last crossed paths, o Magician? How far you have fallen."_**

I hold my hands over my ears, squeeze my eyes shut, press my forehead against the bloody ground as I grit my teeth. That voice- like knives driving into my skull from all directions. A screehcing, gasping death rattle formed into words. A thousand howls from the grave, spun into one voice, one without mercy, without love. Only pain.

_**"It is of no matter. We shall have plenty time to talk, o Magician. We shall mend you."**_ The ink-shadow- the Arcana Magician- hurdles forward, blades coming down like silver rain. The skeletal horror rears back its killing arm, ending in claws so sharp the night air cries out in agony- and simply reaches out, catching the Magician's mask faster than anyone could see.

They both pause. The Magician's swords hang dumbly in the air.

**_"Please, join me. I have been so lonely."_**

The deathly horror crushes the mask, reducing it to dust- less than dust. One last shriek rings out into the night as the swords fall from the Magician's hands to bury themselves point-first into the roof, the body melting and bubbling into a dark puddle- and during all of this, the hellish white creature merely scratches the name "Magician" onto its bone scroll. It turns to look at me- its face a Russian doll of demonic white skulls, one inside the other- and disappears. I blink, and in its place is Grendel, his dark scales awash with the Magician's black blood.

I've fallen to my knees, gasping. I don't remember when that happened. I run my fingers along my aching skull, still feeling those memories all too vividly...

"So, you're not hopeless. Good."

I whip my head around, and there's mysterious signature chap, a little smile on his face.

"Wh-... who-"

"Right now, I'm your teacher. Lesson one: turn the fuck around."

I do that, to see that tar-puddle of melted Arcana Magician separating into two. They rise up, and-_ Christ almighty_- begin to take form. A mask rises to the surface of each one's head, and now I'm face-to-face with some miniature Magicians, minus swords.

"Lesson two: kill their asses."

Don't need to tell me twice. Adrenaline (read: arrogance) rushing through me, I fetch up the wakizashi and lunge forward at one of the blob-monsters with a stab- only for the point of the sword to skid off of the mask leaving just a scratch.

"How fucking stupid are you? Who stabs with a Japanese sword?"

"Either help me or bugger off!" I yell back at him, hopped back to avoid being gutted- but the creature's hands rake across my chest, slashing my uniform. Fuck! It moves like water, but its nails feel worse than broken glass.

I take advantage of its momentum and drive the blade through the eye socket of the mask while ducking a thrust-punch from the other ink-fiend, levering the sword like a crowbar until the mask cracks and shatters. Snarling, the remaining creature headbutted me with its mask, sending me stumbling backwards, trying to line up another thrust-punch.

"You're gonna want to dodge that, hero."

I do, and make a hard chop down on the creature arm while ramming my elbow into its mask. All I get is a sore elbow and a feeling of dread as it regenerates its lost limb and the other bubbles away._ Jesus Christ._

"For fuck's sake." My 'teacher' kicks the pistol over to me as I block another swipe- or try to, as the ink-creature's claw just flows through the blade and cuts my cheek. _Ow, fuck._ Making a quick slice, I dive for the gun and put it to my head.

_"Grendel!"_

Bang. The drowning sensation, and then Grendel phases into sight above me. He brings his talon down hard on the ink-bastard's head, crushing the mask.

I drop the pistol, holding my head as mysterious teacher chap gives rewards me with a slow clap. "What a show. Might want to have a more badass summon phrase. How about, 'showtime'? Or maybe 'game over'?"

Giving him a "how about shut the fuck up" was on my mind, but I rolled over onto my back and stayed there, breath coming is sharp, painful gasps. I stared up at the moon, my vision blurring. _Whoa. Bigger than usual. Must be because I'm higher up._

He sighs. "Yeah, just lie there. Your damsel is starting to come to. After you two are done with your victory fuck, come find me." And like that, I blink- and he's gone again.

My last thoughts are of hearing Yukari moan awake- sounds kind of nice- and that I'm lying in a pool of ghost-blood. And Mitsuru's going to flog my arse for ripping up the uniform.

Whatever. Better than back home. My eyes close, and I let myself sink into the Thames.


	5. House of Cards

Nothing. Nothing at all. Just a breeze in my hair and a checkerboard lobby, a blankfaced doorman, blankfaced concierge, blankfaced liftman. I float into the lift, and up I go.

I'm almost disappointed. I thought I was dead for sure.

But I sure as hell felt dead. I groaned, clutching at my chest where one of the ink-abominations had scratched me. Fuck, that had hurt. Didn't help that I had a splitting headache from being headbutted by those arseholes, either. Goddamn masks like iron. Ugly, too.

"You appear to be rather under the weather, my dear young Mr. Scarborough."

I open my eyes, blinking in the surreal blue light. I'm laying back on a blue (obviously) psychiatry-style couch, the Italian's attendant lass seated at my side, holding my right hand in hers. I automatically yanked my hand back- she seemed satisfied that my heart still beat, and gestures to the owner of the deep, opera-ish voice.

His swish cane leaning against his usual seat, Tarocchi is looming over me, a tobacco pipe in one velvet-gloved hand, a glass of brandy in the other. He smiles down at me with too many teeth, puffing a smokescreen at me through his beak nose and making me sneeze. "Elizabeth was able to bring you to us, if only for a short time."

I rubbed my nose. Never liked the smell of burning tobacco. Reminded me of hard times. "Beg your pardon? Am I dying?"

"Oh, good heavens, no! Simply in a deep sleep." He took a long drink from his glass, swirling its contents thoughtfully as he puffed away on that Sherlock pipe. "A most opportune time for us to speak, once again."

"About all the insane shit that happened last night?"

"Correct." Tarocchi glanced at the otherworldly clock hanging on the wall, as if telling the time from those madly spinning hands. "For your convenience, I will be frank; that night, you drew power from yourself in the form of what is called a persona."

_"Wot?"_

Handing me an old and monstrous leatherbound book, its pages crinkly with age, Elizabeth put a finger to her blue lips. Tarocchi continued, ignoring my interruption. "In the sense that you have crafted a mask to show to the world, to society, one to be marked and scarred with the trials of life-" he blew a ring of smoke into the air, and then another, and another-" during that hidden hour you loath so, that persona becomes... tangible." The rings straightened, forming a semicircle around a singular ring, larger than the rest. "A most crude example, but I find masks fitting." He chortled.

As he spoke, I paged through the book, finding a spot where Elizabeth had bookmarked. It was all rot- rough sketches and blueprints of the human body, mostly concentrated on the head and brain- and repeated images of a man playing a flute.

"And as you have undoubtedly guessed, the hidden hour that haunts you is an adequate stimuli to evoke a reaction from the darkest depths of your mind. I have a theory that that hour is much like this place-" he waved a hand around the lift- "not quite dream, not quite reality, but most important, all the same."

I blinked as the smoky imagery dissipated. That... wasn't exactly as far-fetched as I thought it would be. Tarocchi looked as though to continue rambling, so I blurted out the one thought invading my mind: "How?"

He ran a long finger along the rim of his glass. An eerie, crystal hum filled their air, mingling with the tobacco smoke. "Why does the psyche of man part the curtain of consciousness? What does your world hold for those spectres of emotion and memory?" Tarocchi turned from the clock, staring at me intently, his monocled eye nightmarishy huge. "That is why you have joined us, my dear young man; to be exact, the reason I made use of your contract. I would like you and I to study this... hidden hour." He smiled. "Would it not be the best for all parties involved? You wish to know more about this dreaful hour that's haunted you for so long..." That smile widened impossibly. "Don't you?"

A deal? I don't like deals. "And in return... ?"

"I help you control and strengthen your persona. Or, in this case, personae," he said with a hint of amusement, "As you appear to carry more than one mask. Most interesting. Astounding, if I may say so!"

"As if that horrid _Grendel_ weren't enough," mumbled Elizabeth, with a small snide shudder.

"That... thing... didn't come from me. It couldn't have. I _don't-"_

"We all have our secrets, buried ever so deep." Tarocchi leaned down close, his nose nearly touching mine. "But fear not. I know where to dig."

* * *

_No wind to betray our scent. A shadowless moon. A still night. A hunter could ask for no more._

W-what?

_There is a time to sleep, a time to hunt. But here- this is where we do not merely hunt. We reign. This world is ours alone._

Who are you?

_Mine alone._

Oh.

* * *

I open my eyes. A white ceiling. I don't know this ceiling.

Can't say I know this bed, either, comfy as it is. I try to prop up onto my elbows, but my entire body is stiffer than a hot cock- can barely flex my fingers. I grunt with effort, working the blood back into my body, and finally manage to push myself up and swing my legs over the side of the bed- and nearly pass out from the rush of blood to my head.

Christ. I run my fingers down my chest. The cuts... are gone. So is the one on my face. But the pain... I can feel it, still. Like a memory. Like- what do they call it- phantom limbs. That kind of thing. _Christ, _I can still feel the tickle of trickling blood. I scratch at my chest, but its worse than an itch under your skin- can't get to it, no matter how hard you try.

...

Huh, and these hospital-patient pants sure are an ugly shade of green. Then again, I probably don't like green in general anymore. The slip and all that rot.

Okay. White walls, white ceiling, white bed, big locked windows with morning sunlight streaming in, call button on the wall, no sharp objects or choking hazards, rubbers over the outlets. Yeah, this is a hospital if I've ever seen one.

A few questions ran through my mind- how long has it been, how did I get here, is Yukari okay, who the fuck is purple stormbeater bloke- but those all faded away as I realized I needed to take God's mightiest piss. Fuck, my prostate hurts.

I pad over to the bathroom door, trying not to stumble on my numb legs, take the most relaxing piss in the history of man and stare at myself in the abovesink mirror.

_God, do I look like shit._ Bruises like knuckled flesh under horribly bloodshot eyes, skin all pale, beads of cold sweat dotting my forehead.

Why couldn't this be a dream? A stupid fucking dream I'd forget as I trotted downstairs to have the morning tea with Arch? There was no use in trying to convince myself it was all in my head. The phantom pain, the Velvet Key-_ fuck._ Burden of proof.

I washed my hands, hoping to get the chill out of my fingers (I didn't), and as I did so, the door to the room slid open.

I peeked outside of the bathroom. A nurse peeked back. Jesus, heart attack. "Oh! Hello! You have woken up, Mr. Scarborough."

Finally, someone speaking English, even if the accent could cut glass (Mistah Skawboloh, etc.). "Yeah." I scratched my aching head. "Um." I winched as she opened the windows, letting even more sunlight in. Ow fuck. "How long have I been here?"

"You have been hospitalized for two days," the nurse said automatically. Guess she dealt with English-speakers often, had this whole routine down.

From the way my limbs felt like lead, yeah, I believed her. "Okay. Thanks." I watched mutely as she bustled around the room, tidying things up just a bit. And then she slipped out, shutting the door behind her.

With a very loud _click._

"Oh,_ bugger my arse backwards."_

I was locked in, and I didn't have the common sense to ask for a bite of breakfast. Then again- my stomach heaved painfully at the thought of food- maybe not.

So I sat my arse down on the bed, hands on my knees, and stared outside over the trees. I was too tired to care about anything just about then. Nothing made any Goddamn sense.

Thirty minutes of blank staring._ Click, slide._ The door's open again and I'm pulled out of my reverie. I twist around to ask the nurse for the exact time, when I realize I'm in worse company.

Mitsuru stepped into the room, heels all_ click-clicking_, her arms crossed regally- oddly, she wasn't wearing her not-taser. Tailing her was a broad-shouldered chap, jacket over his shoulder. Odd... was he graying prematurely?

"Good morning, Scarborough-kun," she says. No more English for me today. "How are you feeling?"

I am not in the fucking mood for pleasantries. "You know better than I do."

Normal people would've sat down, but those two just stood there, blocking the door. So that's how it is. "Yes, actually. You took it much worse than the others. We were relieved to hear you had finally regained consciousness."

A train colliding with my skull would have the same effect. I blink. My stare flicks from Mitsuru to albino chap, both of them looking at me expectantly, and then: "I... guess I should've said something the first night. With the guns and all that. Would've made things easier."

Mitsuru gave a delicate shrug. "We can't be sure it would have. But even so-" she gestures to my chest. "How are you coping with the shadow pain?"

Guess that's how they say phantom pain in Japan. "Still there. It does go away... ?"

"Eventually," cut in the albino chap, "as long as you want it to go away. It's not _real_ pain, you know." He tapped a finger against his forehead. "All mental."

Mitsuru gave him a sidelong glance. "Scarborough-kun, this is Akihiko Sanada, another member of our dorm. I believe you two haven't met."

I struggled to my feet and circled the bed, giving Akihiko the strongest handshake I could muster- enough to throttle a snake, nothing impressive. His grip nearly broke my hand. Fuck. Why do I bother being left handed again? "Jack Scarborough. I'd give you some friendly trivialities about myself, but I'm sure Kirijo-san has filled you in."

Akihiko gave Mitsuru a loaded glance. "You learn fast. That much is good."

"Not fast enough." I shake my head. "Kirijo-san, listen, I- I just have so many questions and I don't know where to-"

"You can start by resting. You're in no condition to go to school."

"Bollocks." Shit.

Akihiko jabbed a finger into my chest, sending me flopping back onto the bed. "Argh! Fuckin' _dammit!_"

He chuckled. Mitsuru frowned at him. "Until you're healed, per se, I suggest you stay here. This is Tatsumi Memorial Hospital, not at all far from the dorm."

"Alright," I grumbled, struggling into a sitting position. Goddamn Akihiko using my Goddamn phantom pain. "We'll do it your way.

Mitsuru smiled. "Good." She turned on her heel and out the door she went. Akihiki and I glanced at each other.

"She's... always like that, isn't she?"

"You could say that." He dug through his jacket pockets. "By the way, Yukari wanted me to pass these along. Don't tell Mitsuru."

Akihiki dropped my music player, mobile phone, and flick knife into my lap. Well, this guy wasn't all too bad. "Thank you," I said, actually meaning it for once in my life.

"No problem. Music helps the pain, from what I've experienced." He turned to leave, giving me a lazy wave. "Don't keep us waiting."

Door slides shut. Doesn't click this time. Okay, not locked in. I could sit around and ponder about everything, about Tarocchi and Mitsuru and purple stormbeater chap, but I took a different course of action.

Headphones go on.

_I don't wanna be your friend_  
_I just wanna be your lover_  
_No matter how it ends_  
_No matter how it starts_

_Forget about your house of cards_  
_And I'll do mine_  
_Forget about your house of cards_  
_And I'll do mine_

_And fall off the table, get swept under_

_Denial, denial_

I turn on the phone, watching it flicker to life. Long distance calls, well- I'd pay the bill. Had nothing to do with all this money anyways.

_The infrastructure will collapse_  
_Voltage spikes_  
_Throw your keys in the bowl_  
_Kiss your husband goodnight_

_Forget about your house of cards_  
_And I'll do mine_  
_Forget about your house of cards_  
_And I'll do mine_

_Fall off the table, get swept under_

_Denial, denial_  
_Denial, denial_

_Your ears should be burning_  
_Denial, denial_  
_Your ears should be burning_

So much static, but our voices ring true. "Afternoon, Arch."

* * *

Boring chapter. Next one, less boring. Hopefully.


	6. Headful of Ghosts

A long, blank pause. A few words. No more.

Asked if he wanted anything specific. Incense, a katana, Japanese cigarettes, anything. Arch said he was just swell and told me to stop worrying about him and to embrace the mysteries of the mystical orient.

... Yeah, I hung up after that part.

What was I supposed to say? That I was hospitalized? That I was clinically insane? That I could make fucking demons pop out of my head like a jack-in-the-box?

_Jack_ in the... oh for fuck's sake.

I couldn't go to Arch now. Not now. I could've gone to him any time in the past few years, tried to make him understand that I wasn't normal- he had an open mind, a philosopher's eye, a saint's grace- he would've understood. But I always had those gnawing doubts, those doubts that he wouldn't get it and I'd be on the streets again. My brothers wouldn't take me back. Not after I abandoned them for a better life. A life of meaning.

And now I was balls deep in hell's arsehole and I couldn't get out. I can't ask Arch for help now. Not a Goddamn chance.

Fuck. One second I'm a complete sopping pussy, the next I've got some code of bullshit honor. _Fuck._

* * *

Flick knife open, flick knife closed.

Flick knife open, flick knife closed.

Flick knife open, flick knife closed.

There's something in the icy air, misting my breath red. Something in the bloody rainpuddles choking the gutters. Something, something. But what? What am I missing?

_"And now you know you are not alone."_

I grind to a stop, putting a hand to my mouth. I... wasn't exactly used to that yet. Used to having someone else speak through me. "What... do you mean?"

_"You can feel them. Feel their eyeless gazes from every crack, every corner. Feel their teeth and nails, only a heartbeat away. Feel their bloodlust. Their want."_

I didn't want Grendel to be right. I wanted him to be wrong. But he- I- spoke the truth: little wisps of shadow would flit and flick around my peripheral vision, always too fast for me to see head-on. I mean, I had always sensed other... beings... back in London, but now, with Grendel rasping in my ear like bark breaking, they felt so close. Too close.

Maybe I shouldn't have left the hospital this late at night. But then again, I couldn't stand another half hour of that place- the harsh fluorescent striplights, the stink of cleaning solutions, the nurses and doctors looking at you like a piece of rotten meat. Mitsuru had left my school uniform behind in the hospital, thankfully, so I took my chance. Couldn't take it.

_"No true hunter could. That was no lair for-"_

"Stow it!" I snapped, taking back control of my mouth with a bit of struggle. Christ, when he spoke through me, he made me sound... unnatural, too deep, too slow. Like poisonous fumes breaking the surface of a lost bog, or something. "Just- just don't say a bloody thing, alright? They might hear-"

_"They have heard. They follow. They watch."_

Oh my God. I peek over my shoulder, and a curtain of blackness dodges around a corner into a backalley.

Flick knife open.

_Oh fuck no._

I break and run. I won't lie. I was scared. No no- terrified. The sixty-minute slip had been my time, my place where no one could hurt me. And now... now these things were creepin' 'round my happy place. That's not a fucking good feeling. Imagine waking up and finding a Goddamn abomination of shadow brewing tea for two in your kitchen. Fucking unpleasant!

_"Coward. You flee from the carrion eaters? No, these pathetic wretches... less than that. They feed greedily, shamelessly upon the carrion of carrion. And yet you still flee. Coward."_

I tried not to listen, but... there was something in his snarling voice, something so promising I have to concentrate hard to avoid the coffins. That bloke Tarocchi said that a persona was a part of yourself... and how could I argue against myself?

Hands over ears, pulling at hair in agitation. "Shut up, shut the fuck-!"

And then I ran into a coffin on the sidewalk for the second time in Japan. Predictable outcome: I flopped back onto my arse with a loud "bugger!" Didn't even have time to gasp for breath before a... wave of darkness flowed past me, gentle as a breeze. I froze there, sitting on the sidewalk, hands clutching my knees in horror, as this... black tide streamed over my shoulders, through my hair, across my face.

I closed my eyes, feeling my fear ebb away. So... soothing. Like a cloud passing over the sun for just a tick-

**_"ENDS NOW."_**

The pain of a nailgun shooting up along my backbone brought me out of my reverie. I groaned, gritting my teeth, curling forward into a ball, as the pain intensified-

**_"THIS ENDS NOW."_**

Like a hundred vodka-soaked knives had stabbed right through me, and were slowly, agonizingly, prying out my spine. I screamed. I screamed until I was hoarse. The green of the sixty-minute slip flashed to a blurred red.

And then the pain stopped so abruptly I gave a sob of relief. Nothing- just the feel of emptiness when pain leaves.

I was facedown- when did that happen?- and pushing myself up to my wobbly feet, I saw that the pooling of shadows had retreated a fair distance, the edges of the darkness trembling a tad.

_"Teach them their place,"_ Grendel whispered softly._ "Until the night comes where you can free me of your flesh-bone web- teach them."_

I braced myself against a trafficlight, breathing hard. My head hurt now. Fuck. "Wha... what? I don't- I don't unders-"

And then the shock of being thrown back into reality made me fall back onto my arse. Again.

"Shit cunt bollocks!"

Shit cunt bollocks indeed. I had hit the cement next to a cop car. The arses on duty slammed my face against the hood, pat my arse down (missed the knife, praise to my lord and savior) breathalyzed me and sternly told me to fuck off and go home.

I was surprised. No beating or anything. What a nice country.

* * *

It had passed the "really fuckin' late" point by the time I finally hauled my arse to the dorm. Might not have been my proper home, but right then- it sure felt like it.

I pushed the door open- who the hell leaves the door open at this time of night- to see Yukari dozing on the couch, telly on and spewing infomercials, two cups- still steaming invitingly- on the coffee table.

Okay, this night got considerably less shittier. Guess that makes it go from "shat shit" to "a jolly ol' fuckeroo". Not a big jump, but you gotta make do.

I slid the bolt on the door and quietly walked over to the couch, looking down at sleeping Yukari. Some fashion magazines were piled on the carpet next to her- Christ, how long had she stayed up?

Smiling slightly, I leaned over her and gingerly flicked the very tip of her ear. And... she kept snoozing away. Huh. Well, I killed the telly and sat down on the couch opposite, burying my face in my hands tiredly.

_Christ oh lord of mine._

Buried my face into my hands tiredly, right, but not go-to-sleep tired. Like been-glassed-and-shanked-and-don't-feel-so-swell tired.

I looked up, my eyes finding the old grandfather clock standing guard against the wall. I sighed. Three more hours until school anyway.

I fetch up one of Yukari's chintzy magazines, paging through it listlessly. Headphones go on.

_I was there when they took all the people..._  
_I was alone in a mental ravine._  
_You breathe life when you break the walls down..._  
_You breathe life when you set me free._

_Where is my head?_  
_Where are my bones?_  
_Why are my days so far from home?_

I can't concentrate on the gaudily dressed skanks or the blokes who look like lasses who look like blokes. The lettering all runs together into an inky, meaningless mess.

_Where is my head?_  
_Where are my bones?_  
_Can you save me from myself?_  
_Can you save me from myself?_

I reach over, my cold fingers wrapping around one of the mugs of coffee. The cup burns, but I don't think I feel it. I'm looking at the bottom of an empty mug before I know it. I almost reach out for the other one, but no, that's Yukari's. Don't be a fucking tosser.

_Free-thinking renegade social,_  
_Mr. Moon Man now!_  
_Out of the slipstream of my possibilities,_  
_Got the boat so we don't drown..._

I set the magazine and mug aside, slipping out of the lounge. Up the stairs I go.

_These are the days that I'm split down the middle!_  
_No words to calm me down..._  
_Be sure that what you dream of don't come to hunt you down!_

I don't know which room is Mitsuru's. Fucking fuck. There are four floors of this dorm bullshit.

_Where is my head?_  
_Where are my bones?_  
_Why are my days so far from home?_  
_Ghostman!_

Through the heavy metal door onto the roof. There are still gouges in the cement where that monster-

I closed my eyes and shook my head. No. To call the Arcana Magician a monster is an insult to monsters.

I opened my eyes. That... thought... wasn't Grendel's. It was mine. Yet his. And mine. Ours.

Those were the only thoughts running through my head as I laid there and sank into an uneasy, twitching sleep, Bush grunging away in my ears.

* * *

Which was over before I knew it. A shoe in the ribs is a great way to wake up early in the morning, did you know? Surprised me too.

I cracked an eye open. Albino shoulder-coat bloke- er, Akihiko looked down at me. "Found you."

I rolled over onto my side, my headphones falling off. Ah, nothing better than morning chill making your ears feel frostbitten. I have warm headphones, you see. Nice buy. "You always up this early?" I mumbled, punctuating it with a cavernous yawn.

"Best time to train."

"Best time to get hit by one."

...

"That doesn't work in Japanese, you know."

"I'm tired."

* * *

Shortest chapter yet. And pretty much nothing happens. Well, they'll start scrapping in my hellish version of Tartarus soon, so that's something to look forward to.


	7. It's a Lie!

The monorail rode smooth. Too smooth. In London, the Underground would have its bumps and bucks, a tad bruising, but enough to lull you to sleep. This... this too-clean, no-name train runs its rail like a broken dog.

_It's a lie!_  
_If I lie right here... Girl, this was your idea,_  
_you know it's not my fault._  
_You say you want my love,_  
_well my love taste o' salt._  
_I've got a list of things I want to do before I think of someone else's sorrow..._

The ocean wasn't so blinding in the early morning. More of a deep, calm blue, like an evening sky full of rain. I sighed, rubbing at my eyes as the wispy clouds flew by.

_If there's a deeper meaning that you're tryin' to find well it's in your head,_  
_you'd better treat it kind!_  
_If you've done misread me,_  
_then I'll make it clear tomorrow!_

I had gone with Akihiko to school that day- but not before checking in with Mitsuru, who was not at all pleased that I had checked out of a hospital in semi-critical condition in the middle of the night. She didn't like my excuse of "I don't like hospitals" either. What a surprise. In fact, Akihiki managed to skillfully sidetrack her from biting my head off completely by brining up that Ikutsuki- chairman-suit-bloke- was showing up later that day. To tell the truth, Mitsuru was the reason I had gone to school early. Call me a pussy bitch, will you? Well, you're not far off the mark, yeoman.

Akihiko. Coat-over-shoulder bloke. I studied him out of the corner of my eye the entire slide to school. He would've fit in proper in London- the way his eyes were never still, crinkled at the corners, never fully open, always scanning the world around him. The tension in his shoulders that made him a centimeter shorter, broader. The slanted face, knocked out of uniformity by a broken nose, a cracked eye socket giving him a permanent cock to the left eyebrow, a smashed cheekbone, all healed fully but crudely. The clenched jaw, sitting slightly off-center, ready for an uppercut at any time. Odd as it may sound, I felt... relaxed, around him. Chilling intensity rose off him like steam, but he reminded me of my brothers. A bit like Mosley, to be exact. They had that same subtle wit.

As the train glided to a noiseless stop at the school terminal, Akihiko bade me goodbye and briskly jogged away to the gym for- you guessed it- training. By the time I had pulled off my left headphone to mumble a goodbye, he had disappeared into a crowd of swooning girls. Training, he said? Training for what? Atom splitting? Blimey, some people. Heard about that Japanese work ethic, but fuckin' bollocks.

I clocked the time on my mobile. Five o'clock and seven minutes.

_Wish I could tell you I'm a better guy,_  
_that love is all around and only real man cry but all I want to do is jump your bones and slamdance all night to the music of your moans!_

_It's a lie!_  
_If I lie right here..._  
_It's a lie!_  
_If I lie right here..._

... Eight minutes.

Fuck.

* * *

Those three hours weren't a complete waste, though. After doing the whole shoe-locker switch thing, I wandered the halls, my bag feeling oddly heavy for the first week of school, I clocked a bookstore- yes, that's right. A full-blown bookstore in a highschool. The Japanese take their education very seriously, so Arch tells me. Now I know he wasn't just trying to kick me out of the house- I mean, fuck, the library itself had its own building, twice the size of my early-years orphanage.

I poked my head in, grazed over the thick texts that were bloody college level no doubt, and found myself in an empty corner of the store dedicated to Japanese-to-English dictionaries. Just what I needed. I picked up the cheapest one I could find- simple solid cover, simple font, thin pages, just as I liked it- and flipped through it a tad, stopping at "indignation".

Don't get me wrong. I can understand Japanese- when it comes out of a textbook, very slowly. I have no idea what the blokes on the street are saying most of the time. I mean, Christ, the only reason I can figure out what Junpei is saying half the time is because he's always gesturing and waving his hands around like an Sicilian ventriloquist.

Speaking of which, the bloke behind the counter tried his hand at sign language as I came forward, as if I couldn't read the LED on the cash register.

"Cash only. I get it," I said dryly as I thumbed through the crumpled notes in my wallet.

"Hey, sorry man, just making sure."

"Right." Tossed a bill onto the glass counter, noting the books on display within. Tale of Genji? Gotta keep that in mind. "They pay you for this?"

Bookstore cashier bloke was having some trouble with the barcode scanner. "Sorry, what was that?"

"You're a student, aren't you? What I mean is- well- do they pay you for working here?"

He smoothed the barcode against the book's spine and the scanner beeped cheerfully. "Oh, that. Nope. Cool if they did, though." He handed me the book, with a complementary bookmark. Thanks, mate. Because I love bookmarks for my dictionaries. "This gig is like a club. Just with less pointless meetings. Sucks I have to get here early, but, it's either that or some other crap."

"Uh huh." I slipped the translator's dictionary into my bag. "Look good on your applications, at least."

"Yeah." He yawned, helping himself to a thermos of coffee stashed beneath the counter. "Tomochika Kenji. Or, Kenji Tomochika. You know what I mean."

"Huh? Oh. Right." First-last name ordering. I held out my hand. "Jack Scarborough."

"Yeah, I know. I sit way behind you in comp." An impish coffee-stained grin came to his face. "And you're right behind Yukari Takeba. How does it _feel_, man? To be so close, yet so far to_ that ass_?"

I sighed, and shook my head, smiling in spite of myself. "See you in class, Kenji," I said with a tired wave as I wandered out the door.

* * *

I spent the rest of the spare time before class being lost. Not a bad lost, really; the architecture of the school was simply swell to look over. Dropped by the archery club- technically called kyudo, but you probably know that already- and watched the seniors take some potshots at targets twenty meters away like it was nothing. Damn. Hard to see Yukari doing this kind of thing.

Looked around for the gym or wherever Akihiko had scampered off to, seeing what Mr. Train-Like-Fuck was doing- probably bench pressing Shinto statues or something- but the first bell rang and I had to haul my arse back to class.

Which was on the opposite side of the school. Great.

Even with all the walking I had been doing, staying awake in class proved a hell of a challenge- kept myself awake by cracking my knuckles painfully, then cracking them back into place. Very effective. Though there were some classes I didn't need to give myself arthritis to stay awake- example, my Japanese literature class, where one wall was a e-fucking-normous woodblock print of some medieval-era Japanese castle, another was filled with racks of swords and a suit of Japanese armor. They have a word for that kind of thing... eccentric? Oh, and he wore a samurai helmet. All the time. Went well with his suit, actually. At least he has some taste.

Unfortunately for this swordmaster- or teacher, whatever- he was stuck in ancient history, and seemed to be almost as bored as his students were. I amused myself by staring at the wall of swords and wondering which ones would hurt most.

Let's fast forward: went home with Junpei again- who was kind enough to volunteer to get all my make-up work, what a chum- and this time he took me through yet another mall. Christ, this city is a consumerist clusterfuck.

"You alright, man?"

I stared off into the distance. Why are the payphones here green? Whose idea was that? "Huh?"

Junpei snapped the stick of Pocky in his mouth in two, handing me a half. Um. Thanks. "You've been gone for the past two days, and you look like crap. You been sick?"

"Sick?" Dot dot dot. "Oh. Yeah. Right. Just a cold. Not contagious anymore, don't worry." Hey, this Pocky stuff isn't as shitty as it looks.

"Yeah, y'see bro, hate to be the one to say this, but homework will fuck you up the ass and to the left if you just let it go." He tugged his hat down, the sunset in our eyes. The pedestrians on the street were starting to thin out.

"What I wanted to hear," I yawned, shifting my now-uncomfortably-heavy bag on my shoulder. "Well, thanks, china. You surprised me, there, getting my missed work and all."

He scratched his goatee, almost embarassed. "Shit, bro, it's all cool. What are bros for, yeah?" He held out his fist, almost making me flinch back.

Wait a tick... "Yeah." I knocked my fist to his. Oh, Christ almighty. My first Japanese brofist. Arch would be so proud.

* * *

Know who I wouldn't give a brofist? Ikutsuki.

Let me explain why. I make my way back to the dorm in the late evening, tired as hell and just wanting to sleep properly. Except- oh, it's Yukari. And she wants me to get all the way upstairs because... Ikutsuki is here. Why? Yukari gives me a sort of loaded look and shakes her head, her bangs swinging. For fuck's sake.

Add three more flights of stairs and a pissed off Jack walking through the door to the... secondary lounge? Who designed this place? Fuck! "Scarborough-kun!" rang a joyous voice. "It's so nice to see you again! Are you feeling better?"

I blinked. Ikutsuki had crossed the room and was shaking my hand a bit too lovingly as Yukari slid past us with a mouthed "sorry" and sat down on the couch. I pushed my agitation to the back of my head and returned the handshake. "Yes, thank you, I'm well. How are you?"

"Oh, splendid, just splendid! But don't you go worrying about me! That's my job- worrying! About students, of course." Ikutsuki pushed his glasses up his nose, suddenly serious. "Now, please have a seat."

The five most reassuring words in the English bloody vocabulary. I sat down heavily on a stool, my knees bumping the coffee table. I looked around- Mitsuru and Akihiko were on the opposite couch. I gave a greeting nod, which Akihiko returned- but Mitsuru just stared at me thoughtfully, intently. Like I was a... a math problem, or something.

"Undoubtedly, you have at least a general idea as to why you're here," pressed Ikutsuki, leaning forward in his armchair and steepling his long, bony fingers.

I ran my eyes over the coffee table- a heavy metal briefcase was laid in front of Mitsuru. Didn't like where this was going. "Yeah, I... I'm sure I do. About that..." I waved my hand vaguely. "... Happening."

Ikutsuki nodded, light glinting off his glasses eerily. "Yes, that's right." He leaned back slightly. "But we have a name for it, you see. The Dark Hour."

Well, that's... creative. "Uh huh. So all of you can... see it? Feel it?" Couldn't think of the right verb. 'Experience' had too positive a ring to it.

"That's right." I glanced over at Mitsuru, only to turn my eyes down. Christ she had a killing stare. "There appear to be an amount of people who don't suffer the usual effects- being transmogrified into a coffin- during the Dark Hour. However-"

"When you aren't in a coffin, that makes you prime target practice for the Shadows," cut in Akihiko. "You've already had to deal with that, three nights ago. With your Persona."

Three nights ago? That thing on the roof? Wait hold on, Shadows... that's plural... there's MORE of those buggers? "Yes," said Mitsuru, with a sharp look at Akihiko. "These Shadows, from what we understand, are the physical manifestations of the human _id_- negative, primal impulses. If you've been watching the news, you'll have heard of a condition known as Apathy Syndrome-"

"Wait, those people are Shadows?" I found it hard to believe that mumbling sleepwalkers on the street could become killer ink splotches at night.

"No," continued Mitsuru, "those people- the Lost- are the victims of the Shadows. That's why we've made it our duty to fight the Shadows- to save those who would otherwise be completely defenseless."

"All of that is correct." Ikutsuki looked from Akihiko to Misturu approvingly. "And to follow this duty, we have established the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad- S.E.E.S., if you would- a school club dedicated to eradicating these parasites from Japan. Mitsuru is the leader, and I act as the club adviser from the school. Oh- but of course, the school doesn't knowingly support our nighttime vigilante work," he added with a chuckle.

This was a lot to take in. I stared at the briefcase on the table between us. "This is... great and all, but... where do these things come from? I mean, Shadows? The Dark Hour? Or- how do they even work?"

Silence hung in the room for a moment. "We... aren't exactly sure," Yukari said- the first thing she had said. I had forgotten she was there.

"But we are still researching with all available resources to find the answers to all of the this. The important thing here, Jack-kun-" whoa hey first name little close for comfort there Ikutsuki "is that you aren't alone anymore. There are other people who deal with this midnight horror." He paused. "Or, for you, because of the time difference, it would've been-"

"Twelve o'clock." Everyone stared at me. I shifted uncomfortably. "I know. I was surprised when I got to Japan- happens at midnight in London, happens at midnight here. I don't know how that's possible. It- it shouldn't be."

Ikutsukai frowned, tapping his fingers together thoughtfully. "Most intriguing. Not only does the Dark Hour effect those outside Japan... but at the very same time, in the face of the laws of physics as we know them. Intriguing indeed!"

I rubbed my eyes. Fuck all of this talking was making me tired. "So that's it. You want me to join your little playground Gestapo here. That's why- the room holdup, the tuition-"

"None of these events were planned, Scarborough-san. It was all coincidence." Mitsuru stood, and clicked open the briefcase. Sitting patiently inside was... a gun? "This is an Evoker. It allows you to unleash your Persona- your inner power- during the Dark Hour."

"We would like you to join us, Jack-kun," said Ikutsuki plainly. No shit, Sherlock.

I had fucked myself this time. If I refused, my free ticket to Japanese education was gone. Gekkoukan would throw my arse out. These secret police pillocks would probably put a bullet in me before I got home. God. I had gotten myself into deep shit now.

My hand reached out, fingers closing around the grip. It was... heavy, for a little pistol. I turned it over in my hands, keeping my fingers away from the trigger like death.

I sighed.

"Okay."

* * *

"Took you long enough."

I started awake. The dorm room- my room, now- was bathed in a sickly green light, but even more nauseating was the figure sitting on the end of my bed. Purple stormbeater contract bloke. "You!"

"No amnesia, either. Fucking amazing, saves me a lot of exposition."

I rolled my arse out of bed, landing gracelessly on the wood paneling. "Fuck! How did you-"

"You've been getting sucked into a batshit insane alternate time-irrelevant dimension for the past seven years of your life, and you're going to ask how one guy got into your room? Come on." Purple stormbeater bloke scratched at his stubbly chin. "You're better than that."

"Sure, yeah, whatever." I had snatched up my flick knife from my bedstand, but the blade wasn't out- wanted to see what he was up to.

He stood, stretched, and walked his way over to the window, parting the blinds and looking down at the hauntingly green street below. "Something's coming, you know."

"What?" I made a move to get closer to the window.

"No, you stupid fuck. I mean figuratively. Something is going to happen."

... Okay. "What does-"

"It all mean? I have no fucking idea. All I know is that it ain't good. Come on- haven't you felt it? That something... wrong was coming?"

"... Not really."

He sighed. "Why am I not surprised." He straightened up his coat and turned to leave.

I let the knife open. What can I say? This bloke scared me more than anything right now. "Hey, hold up. Who are you, anyway? You're not... like the others."

He stopped, turned, and spread his hands with an innocent smile. "Me? Oh, no one, really. Think of me as your guardian ang- no, that won't do. Guardian... gargoyle. Yeah. That's more like it, don't you think?"

This is just making no fucking sense. "You have a name?"

The guardian of the Dark Hour paused. "Yeah. To you, I am Stockholm."

And then he melted into the darkness, taking the green with him.


	8. How Soon is Now?

_"Look. **Look** at them. **Look** at the prey. **Smell** their ignorance. Rank, is it not? So much like carrion. No, even worse..."_

I tapped my pen rhythmically against my desk, beating out a nonsense tune. Whatever lesson of the day being belted out by samurai man flew over my head like buzzards- the only thing in my head was distrust.

Not of S.E.E.S., not of Ikutsuki. No, not them. I could deal with them, politely or otherwise.

I distrusted myself.

_"You **think** too much.** Let** your nails feel skin.** Let** your teeth feel flesh.** Let** your heart feel the hunt. **Free** yourself. **Free** yourself from the red cage."_

I gulped. The ghost of Grendel's words drifted in my mind, grazing my thoughts, my fears, making me shudder. One hour. One hour, every night, that..._ thing_ came out of my head. No, not out of my head- out of... God, I just didn't know. What was that green nightmarish fuck doing for those sixty minutes? Rearranging my memories? Planting new ones? Rewriting my personality? I had been feeling slightly more aggressive and standoffish the past few days, and I didn't think it was just lack of sleep.

And meeting Ikutsuki again, and purple stormbeater bloke- or Stockholm, as he named himself- just made that feeling of unease even greater. Stockholm. More like stalker. Who was this fuckhead? Why did he act like he knew me so well? God, oh Christ Almighty. Was I _schizophrenic_ all of a sudden? Shit fuck Goddamn.

It was only the feeling of stark, stale loneliness made me realize that Junpei's seat was empty- it was unlike him to not say a word all day, in every class, no less- and his absence explained it. Also explained why Yukari was looking brighter than her usual cheery self.

Speaking of which...

"Scarborough-san?"

Sleep-blurred eyes looked up. Where is everyone? Oh, right. Lunch.

I pulled my eyes from Yukari's legs. "And hello to you too, Yukari... uh... san," I mumbled around a yawn. "What's up?"

She shook her head. "You've been sitting there staring into space for the past..." she glanced at the clock. "Twenty minutes. Are you okay?"

I rubbed at my eyes. They felt kind of... sore. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just... you know. This whole Persona and shadows thing. It's... it's a lot to swallow."

A look of understanding flashed through Yukari's eyes- suddenly replaced by agitation as a familiar _click click click_ came along.

"Takeba. Scarborough." I blinked my eyes into focus to find Mitsuru standing just behind Yukari, who flinched away a tad. "Tonight is an important night. Make sure you don't stay out too late," she said coolly, giving me a stern look. Yeah, because, you know, I just love hitting the midnight mahjong.

Yukari and I barely got off an "okay" before Mitsuru was out the door. I sniffed. Nice perfume...

A 'humph' of irritation from Yukari. "Something wrong?" I asked mildly.

She shook her head."Just Mitsuru. Sometimes she just-" She shook her head again. "Whatever, forget it. I'll be seeing you later then, okay?"

"Sure thing," I murmured, and out the door Yukari went, leaving me alone with my demons.

* * *

I looked around. Well, the decor was nice enough... a sort of postmodern paired with the usual, chairs were comfy enough, and the heavy smell of coffee was soothing. But all the sleepiness from that morning had slipped away into an itching uneasiness. "Junpei..."

He looked up over the rim of his coffee mug, his eyes curious under the rim of his hat. "Whasshoop? (What's up?)" he asked, mouth full of burning coffee.

Drumming my fingers against my mug, I dug through my Japanese vocabulary, not sure how to best put it. "I'm not sure how to best put it," I half-arsed. "It's just... you know, china... they're wearing French maid uniforms." Lacy ones, too. Frilly and lacy, and just the right amount of sheerness. "Don't you find that... I dunno. Just feels... odd. Out of place." Like I was in a Goddamn Victorian fetishist whoreden run by Madam Chagall.

Junpei shrugged. "You're overthinking this, bro. All stores have some kinda gimmick, you know? Like, a mascot, theme or whatever, right? So this one's specialty is maids." He took a thoughtful sip. "And... it happens to be my favorite, too. Heh heh, I wonder why..."

"Is everything satisfactory?"

I turned my head to be rewarded with a face full of frilled-up tits tied with a bow. "Um. Er. Yes. Very. Thank you."

The maid-waitress gave a over-recited smile and skipped to the next table. Junpei hid his grin in his mug.

"I remember now," he said with a chuckle.

I snorted. "You're a sound dog, mate." Though he was all smiles, he looked like shit shat ragged. "Where were you today, china?" Sure surprised me when I got a text at the end of school- "go 2 Chagall cafe"- and come to find Junpei tapping his foot, peeking through the cafe windows at the waitresses.

He had drained his entire mug by the time I finished talking and ordered another like clockwork. "Look, bro," Junpei whispered, leaning forward a tad across the table. "Have you felt... I dunno... kinda_ weird_ at school, lately?"

Weird didn't describe it. Whenever I stepped onto school grounds I was bursting with dread, feeling like I had rolled over a bed of nails. Something wasn't just off with Gekkoukan- something was bollocks-out fucked up. "I guess," I said carefully, staring into the depths of my coffee. Always been a bad liar. "Maybe more than usual, but... that's school. Stress and bullshit."

Junpei shook his head earnestly. "No, bro. I mean... really weird. Like, just get off the monorail and feel like you'll barf and shit and piss yourself all at the same time. That you can't _look _at the fuckin' school without feeling like you've been kicked in the gut."

I looked at Junpei, taking a deep breath. This was the most serious I'd seen him. "One," I said quietly, "there's definitely something wrong with that place. I know it too. And two- your coffee's running cold, china."

That distracted him long enough for me to change the subject. But even once we started walking home, I could feel that tension rising between us- he knew I had answers. But I just didn't know how to give them to him.

* * *

Back to the dorm. Mitsuru is reading something- why am I not surprised- and I can't help but hover over her shoulder and pick out a passage.

"An immense body, encircling my- er- delirium, a body made of wind and sunlight, crouching and stretching, encompassed the existence of the slightest human- um- echo." I frowned, crossing my arms across the head of the sofa. "Blimey. Kind of grim, huh?"

Mitsuru looked back over her shoulder, tucking a curl behind her ear, not at all flustered at my intrusion. "Multilingualism wasn't on your record."

I shrugged, letting the hidden jab slide right past. Well excuse me for not being a fucking French linguist. "I'm not. I know a few words, a few phrases- hello, goodbye, stay back, I have political immunity- that's really it, to be honest." I gestured to her massive book. "And this murder weapon is by... ?"

"Joe Bousquet. Perhaps not the sanest French poet to have ever lived, but most definitely one of the more insightful."

I imagined cracking my knuckles. Time to test Arch's teachings."Well, I dunno about that. Sanity...huh. It takes a clear mind to look at yourself, people around you- you know, reflect."

"Perhaps," countered Mitsuru, not missing a beat, "yet as modern psychology defines insanity- repetition of the same action expecting different results, lack of awareness towards one's mental and emotional instability-"

"What, you mean like- the relation between causality and empiricism, awareness, all that rot? I mean, that's more about scale than anything else, and even then, totally depends on perception-"

"That is well beside the point. Bousquet did not need sanity to study others. He needed it to study himself. Which he did not." Mitsuru re-tucked that loose red curl behind her ear, smiling to herself smugly.

I paused. "And... how do we know he didn't define himself as mutually exclusive to his subjects? As part as the- um- experiment, not the control group? Not exactly the right terms, but-"

Mitsuru cocked an eyebrow. "Very good, for an amateur. For a moment, I thought I had another Akihiko."

I sniffed. "Your words, how they honor me."

"Did you say something?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

* * *

It was a cool night, hardly any breeze. The whole troop of the dorm- Akihiko, Mitsuru, Yukari and me, plus Ikutsuki- were standing outside the gates of Gekkoukan, twiddling our thumbs and glancing at the clocks on our mobiles. Five minutes to midnight.

"So you're telling me," I said to Akihiko, who was amusing himself with a bit of moonlight shadowboxing, "that this school shits out Shadows?"

"Not- the- school," replied gruffly replied between punches. "What the school turns into. You'll see. Just wait, okay?"

I sighed, drywashing my hands in the chill air as I counted the cherry blossom petals scattering across the pavement in the wind. What had I gotten myself into... ? Yukari didn't seem to happy either, shifting from foot to foot, that little skirt _swish-swishing_ away. Mitsuru was dead calm, arms crossed, looking up at the Gekkoukan bell tower with complete patience.

We had staked out an area away from the streetlights and any passing traffic, but even so, Ikutsuki wouldn't stay still- moving back and forth, looking around at shadowed street corners, cautious as a man could be. Odd chap. One minute he's carefree, another paranoid as they come.

And then the clock struck twelve.

The water between the school-island and Iwatodai's shore became a sea of dark, cold blood. Red condensation settled on the windows and metal signs. All lights flickered and died.

And something came to life.

At first it felt like the faraway rumble of an incoming train, that rumble that ran through the ground, but then it grew- until it felt like a stampede of trains was headed your way. Yukari gave a small gasp and grabbed onto a nearby lightpost, and I fell back onto my arse as the rumbling became a violent quaking, like the city was being shaken apart. Somehow, during all this, the surrounding sea was peaceful. How the hell-

With a sound like ground zero fireworks, the earth beneath Gekkoukan highschool exploded- upwards, upwards, always upwards. Where the school once was stood a huge, twisted tower, an abomination of architecture and the laws of physics as I knew them. From the windows shone blinding green light, throwing dark shadows against everything. I looked around fearfully, expecting our shadows to come alive or something, but Ikutsuki simply strode forward and threw open the gates of hell.

The chairman's glasses glinted green as he turned back to us. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Tartarus."

_"Welcome home,"_ a voice whispered inside my head.

* * *

Short boring update that took forever. Reviews will make me speed it up.


	9. Rest, my Chemistry

"Jesus almighty Christ, Lord and Father in Heaven," I whispered weakly.

It wasn't just wrong. It went beyond that- beyond every comprehensible definition of wrong- because this could never be right. Not in even the most obtuse sense.

I didn't know where to begin. I've had my brothers and mates occasionally try to paint a picture of their mindfucktrips of lucy, esctasy and spotty shrooms (and sometimes all three rolled into one brain-damaging knot, the dumb fucks), but even the most bollocks-out insane dreamworlds they described to me didn't come close to this... this...

_Masterpiece?_

I shivered, feeling Grendel's forked tongue flicker out in anticipation, testing my reaction. The Evoker felt heavy on my belt.

Masterpiece wasn't too bloody far from the truth. While the tower looked beastly and monstrously massive on the outside, on the inside... it seemed as though it could hold its own sky. Its own stars. The floor went on as far as the eye could follow, tiled in a surreal, beautiful pattern, not exactly geometric (it moved, to begin with), or fully symmetric, either- like something M.C. Escher came up to amuse some psychology-student mates at the pub one boring night. Countless marble columns, just as intricate as the floor mosaic, rose from the tile, gently swaying (or was it my imagination?) into the great shining void above until they disappeared into the green.

And in front of us was a carpeted, wide staircase, leading to a door that lay beneath a massive clockface. It's hands rested at 12:00 exactly- or was it 12:01? I squinted at it- though I had the feeling I shouldn't think about it too hard.

Ikutsuki cleared his throat- an alien sound in the thick silence, making me jump- and grandly gestured to the world-within-a-world around us. "This is the interior of Tartarus," he declared. Well, no shit, Sherlock.

Grendel's familiarity with this sick rip in reality was the only comfort I had. I took a few bold steps forward, and immediately stopped, doubled over, gasping in fear and confusion and nausea. It was like a dream- you move your legs, but you go nowhere. But I _had_ gone somewhere! I had gone just four steps, I could see it, I heard my footsteps (_clack clack clack clack_) against the floor, but something- _something_ told me I had gone nowhere. Was that... ?

_It is best to check your** soul **at the door,_ drawled Grendel in that guttural rasp of his. _This is the den of **desires**, carnal and all._

Akihiko had stepped over, placed a strong hand on my shoulder, jarring me back to the physics I knew. "Take it easy. Breath. You'll get used to it." Glancing back, I saw Yukari having a similar reaction to the nightmare world's law of nonphysics- she had slumped to her knees, with Mitsuru only just helping her up.

"Shit fuck," I growled breathlessly, trying to steady my breathing. "You get used to this?"

With a shrug, Akihiko gave me a walk-it-off punch in the back. I straightened with a wince. "You do with time. And when you do, it's the best place to train you could ask for."

Great. Fucking great.

It was only then I noticed that Ikutsuki was carrying a large luggage-suitcase with him. "What's with-"

Ikutsuki freed the latch and let the suitcase fall open- pop open, more specifically- laying out a monstrous spread of weaponry. Swords, axes, a bow, arrows- melee weapons of all sorts from ages past.

"... That," I finished lamely. Mitsuru reached down, sorted through the suitcause-smithy and fetched up a short, curved sword- with a pang of anxiety, I realized it was the wakizashi from the night Grendel first... woke up, I guess. She walked over to me and held out the sword.

"This belongs to you, now." She did not blink as she stared at me. Not once. Her eyes brooked no argument.

"Scarborough-san."

I stared at the curved blade, the green light playing odd shapes in its reflection, like the surface of sickly bogwater and something lurking beneath- and doubt gripped me, harder than before. I could still run. I could still leave this nightmare, leave Japan, go back home, pretend that I'm just a normal punk like everyone else.

_Once a hunter **marks **his lair, he may **never** leave._

I squeezed my eyes shut. Grendel- his voice, as guttural and untamed as it sounded, seemed so familiar. Almost as if it was mine, just... warped, scratchier.

"Scarborough-_san_." More persistent. Mitsuru knows I'm weak here, that this isn't the sixty minutes of power I had always kept as my plaything. She thought she can just prod me along...

Eyes open, chin up. My fingers wrap around the hilt of the sword, and I lift it from Mitsuru's outstretched hands. It's heavier than I remember.

I look to Mitsuru quickly, but she says nothing, simply turning and going back to the suitcase, drawing out a long, elegant rapier. _Harrumph._ Why was I not surprised... ?

A hard knock on my shoulder, and I find Akihiko standing there, his hands turned into bladed monstrosities by the gauntlets he's wearing. "It's all or nothing, life or death, win or lose. I _know_ it doesn't make any sense," he says abruptly, cutting me off, "But it doesn't have to. Not now. Just fight with all you've got." He punched his fists together, making a frightful din. "You'll learn as you go."

As I go. Yukari was stringing a Japanese longbow- the same kind they used at that archery club, it looked like- and Ikutsuki had brought out a laptop and an assortment of other beeping, blinking equipment that looked like it belonged in a military bunker somewhere. I walked- if you can call movement in this bizarre world walking, it was more like a dreamlike teleportation, taken step by step- over to the chairman and peered over his shoulder.

They say (who 'they' is, I don't know or care to) the part of the brain concerned with dreams can't comprehend written language, and looking at the screen of the laptop, I believed them- symbols and colors and text flashed by so quickly I felt nauseated, like I was being brainwashed, but Ikutsuki's eyes flitted back and forth across the screen, pupils massive. I wondered how his persona worked...

"This is the essential piece of the command center," Ikutsuki said, not looking up. "From here, I'll oversee your actions, any Shadow activity, and try to map out the schematics of the Tartarusian tower. I'll be in constant contact with you," and on that note, he stuck out his hand, on it resting a small radio. I took it, though his fingers lingered a little too long. "So you have nothing to fear-"

"But fear itself?" Yukari was inspecting her bow, Mitsuru giving her advice and gesturing at the big door, Akihiko stretching without a care in the world.

"You're getting the hang of this." Ikutsuki chuckled. "Now, get ready. The interior of the tower is about to shift."

The other three were already at the base of the staircase. I gulped, said a few prayers over in my head, and followed them closely.

The door- well, it wasn't really a door. More like a clockwork portal; imagine five or so bell towers, mashed into one. Mitsuru held out her hand towards it, fingers hovering just above what appeared to be a lever.

_"Now!"_ barked Ikutsuki.

Mitsuru threw the switch, and the portal opened with a great clanking clamor and deafening chime. I shielded my eyes from a sudden bright, green light, and Yukari gave a cry of surprise-

And suddenly we were within the halls of Gekkoukan. A more classical, if nightmarish version of Gekkoukan, anyways, given that the windows led out into a Lovecraftian green world that defied all description. And the floor was tiled in black and white... just like-

"Shadows at twelve o'clock," Ikutsuki's voice blared over our radios in unison. I jumped a little, sword nearly slipping from my sweaty hands- and then _did _drop it, as I clocked four of those ink monsters rounding the corner.

"Prepare yourselves!" shouted Mitsuru as Akihiko took the lead, fists up. Yukari was right behind Mitsuru, nocking an arrow.

I should've been afraid. I should've curled up and died right there. But an odd smile twisted my face, the wakizashi was again in my hand, the Evoker in another. All so naturally.

_**Behold**, my world._

_**Behold**, my judgement._

Grendel was the _bone._ I was the the _flesh._ Our _blood_ ran together like_ seas_ that had only known _storm,_ and I sprinted down the checkered corridor, past a shocked Yukari, past a grinning Akihiko- as the dark beast and I howled together, Evoker under my chin.

_**"LET'S GO, THEN!"**_

With those three words, the Dark Hour became my hour.

* * *

_Had this file laying around, so I dusted it off and here it is. Not pretty, but it's there. Can't believe it took this many chapters to get to Tartarus. _


End file.
